His Hunting Poem by Melanie Emikohe

His Hunting

Rating: 5.0


The Stomach, gnashing muscles
grouching its habitual dismissal,
inspite of its fiery, fervent fidelity,
of the scheduled ration, deprived.

The scavenger is sympathetic
but how could he be not at all?
But some days like luck is scarce,
detained in his idle post, lurking.

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