Rib Picking
You are seventeen,
You are beautiful, and you
Are the engine of life.
Levelled on the hillside,
Somehow upright, white-washed
Wind-torn weather rock
Mid morning and like it’s been
Recently, I’m up and nested
At the window, the land glows at this time.
A badger is fox-holed in land,
Striking, its claws draw blood;
A flint strike of sulphur-red.
Afterbirth boils and drains,
I take one bite and bury the rest
In the hole and share the life organ.
I suspect winter will pick them off,
One by one the cub huddle dwindles,
Father eats the rest and stokes the cycle.
You are now a mercury vessel of joy,
It colours you by the sunrise –
Pluck my rib and stir the earth.
Ashleigh Davies is an English graduate whose work has been anthologised in The C Word (Cinnamon Press, 2011) and also appeared in Envoi, Iota and Poetry Wales amongst other publications.