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No 31 - April 2005
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| Derek Adams |
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| Offering |
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I can’t even read
if the auspices are good,
as the sun’s jaundiced rays
slice low through the almost mist,
to spot light on the doorstep
what’s left of a wood mouse,
left by our ginger cat:
a head, two front legs, a trail of gut.
I walk round to the garage, get
the small red seaside spade
that I keep for just such occasions,
remove the intestines
and tiny body parts;
this is how the day starts. |
page(s) 24
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