Prospero's Slump
Ah my mad genetic mother
who drowns the runt unwanted kittens
downwind of your stinking midden,
nursingly basting the slaughtered,
who toythings with tenderness and rhymes,
dressing dolls in your head-yard,
telling your jacks your jills but lies, mother,
all favourites your flowers all weeds.
The honeybees they're dying, mother,
the ground work-rate's murder;
this is the latest of reports from an idiot
on sporting chances, New Orleans.
--
David Bircumshaw
Website and A Chide's Alphabet http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/
The Animal Subsides http://www.arrowheadpress.co.uk/books/animal.html
Leicester Poetry Society: http://www.poetryleicester.co.uk
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