You were mischief, guile and swiftness
a supple, darting hedgerow brigand
with coal eyes, pinpoint pits, deep as space.

You were inquisitiveness, head bobbing, peeping
seeking a chink in the rabbit’s watchfulness
bending stupefying dun and white curlicues.

You were a war dance tumbler
playful death, crazed, intoxicating.

Last summer, by the bank they call Purgatory
the mole man trapped you
impaled you on steel thorns.

You hang now, substance sucked like air
from a perished, blackened bladder
in a row of tattered warning banners.


4 thoughts on “Vermin

  1. This is just how it is – heartbreaking to see corpses of wildlife hanging in the woods as ‘warnings’ to other creatures as if they could understand killing for anything other than food… poem is excellent

    Liked by 1 person

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