Comments about Graham Stone
In amongst the thick and thorned bushes it lays,
Biting bitter berries; whiling the day away.
It dribbles juices in bleeding streams from its lips
As it masticates the drenched saliva-clad fibres
Around a gaping trap.
It gags a slow reproach as the bitter berries cramp in its stomach.
A Lurch, but it won’t give up the poison.
Instead it rolls on to its face and dies,
Packing its limbs neatly into the earth.