Verse 2: At a poetry reading
Tonight’s star reads with great sonority
poems of country, beasts, trees, birds,
with great if pained superiority
over those who use not words
but guns on feral, sick or wounded
animals, whose lands are bounded,
cut by fences which (truth!) he
declares offensive. Glory be!
His passion shames my mammal-eating,
planet-warming life. It shakes
my donsie tricks, my black mistakes,
my use of coal-fired power for heating.
And yet I wish that he could tell
that other humans are not hell.
There’s a line in there that’s stolen from the great Robert Burns. You can read the poem it’s from here.