TSM 107

put a tiger in your tongue
lickety-split,
we have a lot of mouths to feed
and only ferocious words on the hunt
to provide

fierce mothers day and night
with the moon like carrion,
dragging home the light
of a dying country, no game
to nourish our children

so if I call you ungulate – you wild pig you
odd-toed, craft-brewed deer –
will you be ungrateful,
flee that leap in my eye,
my mouthful of wonder?



For The Sunday Muse

13 thoughts on “TSM 107

  1. Scarce food and lots of mouths to feed. Sounds like the news I have been hearing. Try a bailout?
    We saw some of the tiniest little cottontails on our walk at dusk. I think they were thirsty, we are terribly dry here.
    ..

    Liked by 1 person

  2. For starters, I learned a new word .. ungulate. Continuing on, ‘fierce mothers day and night
    dragging home the light of a dying country, no game to nourish our children’ ~~ utterly devastating. Amazing poetry.

    Liked by 1 person

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