Embedded Files
Proliferous Pink
Proliferous Pink
something very small and simple — Charles de Foucauld
i
with some
irony: scant steppe relic or
‘far-from-home’:
visiting
from where de foucauld /
to carry me,
as she carried…
ii
lights up
where the soil wanes
to a blemish.
having died & come back
half a dozen times,
your existence delimits:
tucked & /
eternal reprieve
iii
save tota pulchra
when your stem waxes
& leaves
toss on the wind
like scalplocks
before the pedicels
breach /
iv
lyke to that
wich made alle thinge /
your pastel rage
repeating
bloom by bloom,
shrived &
singly
Warrener
Warrener
Each warren was managed by a warrener, whose task was to nurture, protect and trap the rabbits. He therefore needed to live on-site and his accommodation had a threefold purpose: living quarters; a storage space for equipment such as nets, traps and lanterns, as well as for the rabbit carcasses; and a lookout and defence against poachers—Anne Mason and James Perry
~
Exacts
by habitual
forces: weather, harriers, foxes—
numbers,
the ratio of bucks to does
then sources turves,
trudges the warren’s banks
looking to fix tumbledown, blown-furze,
the weak & todden slope— sign
of passerby
or poacher? He (for this craft is patrilinear)
sits up at night, watching
the interloping stars
pick across the sky’s cold smear
or clouds billowing like mud
through stirred waters.
Dawn voices
a thinking topography. The banks
stretch round, they hold like margins,
the burrows, the blown
sand, trapping bank arrayed
with snares pegged in. A squeal goes up.
The autumn cull in full swing:
ferrets jigging in their cages
as a lurcher lolls its tousled head
up, round settles
back into the sling of its willow limbs.
Downstairs, the seasonal hires
breathe deep. The youngest whimpers. Soon
they will troop out
with precise choreography.
Some will tend the snares, pluck
the blood dazed
coneys out
with a snap of neck. Others will pour
the ferrets in, those spry and murderous little men
dressed for terror.
He will orchestrate, mostly, make sure
the furs are spared
too much damage that nothing suffers
more than is necessary.
Necessary.
The squeal subsides.
When he goes to meet it,
he will be wearing
white.
In addition to teaching English at Social, Emotional, and Mental Health school, James Coghill writes poetry on broadly ecological and religious themes. Most recently, he has had work included in 14 Magazine, Pamenar, and the Hythe.
Copyright © 2022 by James Coghill, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.
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