There’s a train old hero, grey beard
flickering on the screen, running down the line. In the distance of the
cup of tea in my hand, I see a white owl fly low
over a field.
In the deception of the evening
a badger walks out of the woods & into the path of an oncoming
A man & his dogs find a deer in the woods & bang
You never do that a woman tells her daughter-in-law over and over again.
In the yellow kitchen of a dark wood house,
the girl finds lead shot in her
The man’s mouth produces saliva forming words he will not speak instead
he turns to me & says
Why are you here? What are you doing here?
I shut my mouth. Swallow back my fear,
it is something from a French horror film. I recognise it.
There’s a woman with a small dog, searching in a hollow for a lamb. She
herself in a quagmire, skirt muddy, pulling herself up.
The dog, the lamb & I run.
She grabs at leaves & roots,
is dragged down,
into the mud.
Her fear embeds itself under my nails,
black and tasting of countryside.
Wouldn’t he love to chew her up
wouldn’t he love to —
These things that mushroom
in the kitchen, in the dining room.
In the deceiving evening light,
there’s a train, some miles away.
I run towards it.