This bronze ring punctures the flesh of your nose, the wound is fresh and you nuzzle the itch against a fence post. Your testicles are fat and heavy and sway when you shake off flies; the chickens scratch about your feet but you do not notice them. Through lunch I pitied you from the kitchen window -- the heat, pained fluid of August -- but when I came with cold water and feed, you bellowed and heaved against the slats wanting to murder me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING'S WELCOME, FR. ALEXANDER AND CAMPASPE by JOHN LYLY THE MITHERLESS BAIRN by WILLIAM THOM PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 80, 81. GHAFOOR, MUNTAKIM by EDWIN ARNOLD UNDER THE WHARF by IDA COLE BARTLATT OLD SARUM; LINES ON THE CONFERENCE OF THE ENGLISH CHURCH AT SALISBURY by ALICE COLBURN BEAL THE MAY DAY GARLAND by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |