october 28

its been a while...
striking
why is there a carcass of a beheaded deer hanging from the young oak tree
someone's food
held by twine to its knees no rest of legs
stomach against the trunk
arms to elbows only
from here the sides are brown and fawn, white and beige but around the neck is the dark red of the inner lining
the inner lining of us all and always more graphic that expected
just under the skin
is it a trophy
an explanation for foraging, a liver on the land living on the land
but why here
was it a day of how to kill and hang venison
is it protection
an ancient symbol of fertilisation
a sacrifice
a shamanic totem
an autumnal death?

a chorus of cobwebs for my mother's birthday

still
loud shot
shock

had seen a black car but presumed walkers

that was an intent to kill shot

trees stay stiller
birds lower sound discreetly
fly off in sideways directions
as if avoiding main roads

moisture holds the ground together
sky eye colour gray
depth lightness

no one has appeared to claim the shot
and birds reclaim with gentle leaves
the space

one shot
no more

held
this place is held in a weather blip

then breeze drawing attention to hazel uprights, then some sorrel, one large tree across the field
and then all still
except a flashing swallow
a single bramble
two stinging nettles
wind picks out its own
a story of wind currents

I walk home
the black car still waits
and I wonder if the shot was the end of a life
not animal
and wait

straight down rain starts
more puddles
rain straight down taking the small leaves
rain with falling leaves
rain made form

there is a gate I always open
and I think I know who likes it closed
the gate goes nowhere


leading to a landscape