Monday, September 10, 2012

Tom Raworth

Hot Day at the Races

in the bramble bush shelley slowly eats a lark's heart
we've had quite a bit of rain since you were here last
raw silk goes on soft ground (result of looking in the form book)
two foggy dell seven to two three ran
crouched, the blood drips on his knees
and horses pass
shelley knows where the rails end
did i tell you about the blinkered runners?

shelley is waiting with a cross-bow for his rival, the jockey
all day he's watched the races from his bush
now, with eight and a half fulongs to go
raw silk at least four lengths back disputing third place
he takes aim

and horses pass

his rival, the jockey, soars in the air
and falls.      the lark's beak neatly pierces his eye

--Tom Raworth


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