The afternoon sun dissolves

into the evening mist

and as the bus trundles through

the filth,

there is laughter.



The guide rambles his

meandering philosophies

with garrulous intent

until the bus slows and we

stop to observe

A fallen Cow. Motionless,

accompanied by

dusty, grey hag.



Her knees creak as she kneels.

Handles her axe

and hacks, into its flesh

by the roadside.

The Cow makes no protest.

Blinks not an eye

lies static

until it is no more than:

a head

disjointed bones and

bricks of meat

loaded high in her basket,

higher still, on her head.

she vanishes into the dusk.



Woman and Beast

kicking dust underfoot and

discarding four hooves

which look

incongruous and

lost



without a body to support.



The laughter has died

like the sun.

We are caressed by murky shadows

and trundle,

Sombre to the hotel

Deciding on

Chicken for dinner

Instead.