collective consumption
another problem eels don’t need.
cracks in the riverbed becoming
how to harvest a rabbit
from powdered sugar. moon cut
into the thumb & not even
a razor. I can’t read
Plath’s poem about the vegetable knife. gathering
geese on Fridays hatched from oysters
counting fish: they always said they would
eat me first, I’m grass-fed
as close as you get.
field study
called countrycide it’s when
world’s largest carnivorous plant
nofficial ginis without ginis
caught catching sheep unsheered
sneer though it’s serious think
if the lamb was left
vine-twined tactical
like this pacify quite quick
not counting crows or dogs
ill-suiting insomniacs the sheep
on their backs and off them berries benefit
from fertilizer first study the spires
that beacon comparative to
gorse the straight is defensive
a hook isn’t only for water
they make stone piles
and wool dn’t escape
ask the farmers how many
sheep the brambles claimed
Yvonne Litschel is a poet and artist living in London. Previously she has read as part of the European Poetry Festival. Her debut chapbook Moth Dust was published by Sampson Low in 2018, and she has recently published her second pamphlet Immurement with Broken Sleep Books. @yvlitschel yvonnelitschel.com
