The Boy and the Bull

Caught in the fat angry eye of the bull,
the boy, red handed. A flick of his wrists.
“Come on, fatty cow! Come on!”

This is my field, snorts the huffing bull
And because the points of his horns had been doubted,
the kick of his loins laughed at,

he charges.

And because the boy is only a boy,
brave but stupid, unable to see his future
he stands his ground.

He is not quick enough.
Bull crashes into boy. Boy is broken,
shattered like china. Bull is broken

later by the boy’s father. Blown
away with the family shotgun.

The boy lives on, his arms in plaster.
every taste of milk is this memory.