Apr 2022
sorting out
the loft
in the fuzzy black
aftermath days
the owl
liquorice eyes
glares at my
torch-in-hand
you remember
the pub
used to have
a fox
mid-skulk
streak immobilised
we wondered
why anybody
would want
a stuffed body
static animal
figure of death
but somehow
handed down
to you
burnt toast wings
on wooden plinth
popped in the loft
‘till now
‘till your departure
the loft
in the fuzzy black
aftermath days
the owl
liquorice eyes
glares at my
torch-in-hand
you remember
the pub
used to have
a fox
mid-skulk
streak immobilised
we wondered
why anybody
would want
a stuffed body
static animal
figure of death
but somehow
handed down
to you
burnt toast wings
on wooden plinth
popped in the loft
‘till now
‘till your departure
Written: April 2022.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time as part of Savannah Brown's escapril challenge. A link to my Facebook writing page and Instagram page can be found on my HP home page.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time as part of Savannah Brown's escapril challenge. A link to my Facebook writing page and Instagram page can be found on my HP home page.
