Venery (for #RDP)


Ivory bangles.
Her wrist rubbed vulnerable
against his horsehair sofa.
She is waiting
the moose head
on the wall,
the gyre-horned kudu,
altered eyes
implying gentle death.

Her snakeskin heel
stilettos wool carpet
woven roughly foreign
as she fingers
leather covered volumes
on the shelf
wherein he wrote
their sporting deaths.

She needs air.
She retrieves
her mink coat
careless flung
over the elephant leg
tobacco stand.
In the hall,
the bull’s ear
pinned to the bullring poster.

Minutes later,
He descends
to find her gone.
Near the bookcase,
her musk signs the air.
On her scent,
he chevies to the hall.
Fresh quarry.
He has flushed the British bird.

5 thoughts on “Venery (for #RDP)

  1. Marilyn Armstrong

    Bullfighting is just one of those things I have never been able to wrap my head around. It’s not that I don’t get the pride and arrogance of the bullfighters … but I can’t help feeling bad for the bull. All HE gets out of it is becoming hamburger.



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