Saturday, 24 March 2012



After two days only
The flesh has gone grey
Something has eaten out
The innards
A leg-bone shows
Stripped it was
A rat
That burrowed up through
The Rib-cage

A neat tunnel reveals
The clever rodent route to the larder of
Rotting meat
Like a bloodied purse
In process of being secreted away
Lies the liver
And kidneys too
That even richer stench
Like silage almost sweet

But nothing
Can get the rotting stink of carcass
From my coat
My hands
My nostrils
Unguarded gasp
The putrid air
Spading in the collapsing wool
To garnish
A pudding of rot

I force down the bared skull
With the metal of the shovel
It makes me think the rats are not to blame
For the trenches in France
And the simple thing that is
And flesh
In all our war-ending wars.

No comments:

Post a Comment