BULLFIGHTER POET


             Seizing the horns of
          the poem, and bringing to
             its knees the snorting
          bull of meanings — then walking
          away, trailing the rhythm's

             bloody cape of words
          while the thing itself is dragged
             from the arena
          into pits of memory —
          one sweeping line in the sand.

          (tanka)


           © James Kirkup, 2008




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