The Shearing.

The sheep clenched between his knees
His hunched back bent as if to shield
Not contain it. His hand sweeping
To and fro, working the shears
In regular rhythm. He curses the sudden
Struggle and heaves it back into position
The others, freed momentarily from perturbation.
Look soulful on at this undressing
As if modesty were their greatest asset
And the losing of it a castration

Does the slowly revealed shoulder
Throw the ram into a paroxysm of pleasure
Does he watch in keen anticipation
The rest of the dress peel and fall away
when she stands naked before him
Sheepish in her modesty, is it an
Orgasmic climax to the shearing,
Later, amid snips, he casts withering glances
At the ewes, looking, leering, over the wall

Reviews

[W. Barrett Munn]

A beautifully written and imaginative piece. Telling the tail by detail really draws one in. I particularly liked your use of elision.
W.