Blame, The Basics
His is the instinct to hunt and to gather;
to pillage and procreate – in his nature,
like keeping his hunting knife sharp.
He’ll scent the female, her tang on the air,
wherever she lies – how she lies! –
so cunning in her lure.
She yawns her thighs to the sun,
secretes her musk in the dew,
red berries and warmth.
He is parched and hungry
and, yes, that knife is sharp.
It’s her own stupid fault.
Holly Magill is a poet from Worcestershire. She has a BA in Creative Writing from University Of Birmingham and has had poems published in various publications, including Nutshells and Nuggets, The Stare’s Nest and Poetry Bus. She is fond of cats, snoods and strong tea above most things.