New Poem : Badger


The road is quiet.

There’s never much traffic

in these parts.


Around here, mysterious screams

from the forest are ignored,


and blueberries in the deeper parts

grow fat in the hushed undergrowth.

They won’t be disturbed.


He moves towards the skyline,

where the sun burns the edge off

the night.


He moves towards home,

belly bursting with rotten fruit.


The car breaks

every bone on impact.


As he dies, his claws furl

and unfurl, slowly, like when

he was a cub, blind under the earth,

searching for the blossom

of his mother’s teat.


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