Garry Stanton

Rookie - 71 Points (March 16,1964 / Edinburgh, Scotland)

The Fox In The Hayfield - Poem by Garry Stanton

I bale,
he drives,
piles growing into
hot heaps of ambrosial hay.

August sun, dropping off, says
-get a move on,
it’s a rain-free day,
but a one-day offer!

The wee hours descend
as headlights flame,
elucidating vital work.

Then she comes,
all in brown
and hand-me-downs
and weak thermos- tea
in careworn wicker-
and bread and cress
and egg,

and invisible malignancy within,
bitingtuggingnibblinghacking
at ovaries,
a vixen-violated
henhouse,
in the dead of
winter.

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Comments about The Fox In The Hayfield by Garry Stanton

  • Danny Reynolds (10/10/2008 8:47:00 AM)

    Very good work. I must read more of yours.
    Danny
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Poem Submitted: Friday, October 10, 2008



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