Poem of the Month

The Selection

*

They’re coming.

It’s those sounds, those animals with rounded hooves.

Whirr, whirr, whirr. And dogs.

*

Clang, clang, clang

Those metal walls with gaps

They’re dragging to pen us in like when they take our coats

*

And their dogs running around, snapping at us

And my lambs trying to suck my teats

Even though they’re dry.

*

I remember, we remember

When they took our lambs

Men and dogs, wild bleating

All of us pissing and shitting

Driving us into the pens

*

And they’re dragging my bairns away

Through that gate. Not me. Them.

Their paws grab grab grab, their hooves kick us another way.

Shouts, bleating

Mothers leaping onto other’s backs. Over the walls.

I can smell them. Can’t see them.

Where are they taking them? Where are they taking them?

By Frank McMahon