Shot rabbit

Limp she lies against the ploughed soil
A still life portrait in pain and pellet,
with flicked and dimpled fur,
spread and wind raped.

A dreamer's warmth leaks down,
incontinent. A dropping exudes
and steams gently,
her eyes dull, become distant.

Birth and burrow, flint and furrow
are impaled on the moment she ends;
becomes property as a hand reaches,
snatches, a boot scuffs on.

Grasses shadow box the wind,
as Rooks in black robed rank and file
call in vain longing from the high,
mourning trees.

　

　

Reviews

[Lydia Shutter]

I've never understood why people hunt rabbits...and other animals. It seems cruel to me. Your very graphic description of the rabbit after he is shot is powerful....very much so. The personification of the trees is great. Well written. Lydi**