by Geraldine Mitchell
The bull is loose
the bull is on the loose
puny farmers - slack gatekeepers -
stand fearful at the crossroads
clutching their car doors like paper shields.
The bull is on the road
the bull is on the rampage
pawing melted asphalt
slobber lurching scrotum swinging
coiled power flexing beneath its fat pink flanks.
The bull is on the rampage and
the wolf has burst its fleece
blood drips from the white bird
it holds between its teeth.
There's massacre in the hen house
death in the hen runs.
Terror is on the loose.