Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

   At times the salt wind obscures
   the barking & the horn calls
Then the air will change to sound-
   less knowledge for those who must
lead them out at sunset Round
   each birdcall litter & cost-

ly fault of ground its final
   blazon veers (like some vestal
long prepared) at dry furze where
   seen like rubbings through a glass
the pig appears reappears—
   skimming bulbs & trailing gouts

   of breath Others waiting learn 
   its flights exact as chessmen
sniff the bark for mummeries
   of haired purpose A vision thrusts
at its: ruse equals distance
   It double-trails back to close

   the circle catch the hounds in
   it & throw them off Hidden
by brakes of white fern it thinks
   itself back & up Then rounds
on them tusks down Pink priests
   cursed hounds prepare to set blood

   over winter willing their
    underworlds with it: upper-
fixture celebrants with set
   gnostic faces prehensile
blent Jaws eye-fluid whipped it
   slips between alders muscle-
 
   MOLOCHED three hooves splitting from
   the weight of its fatigue (some
days this air fell whole) Warmth
   mounts warmth in a hollow core
of rage: moving from the north
   they drag the played beast over

   scrub grass iris fretted Shake
   out the hide over the murk
of entrails or cult-whetted
   grope at the wafer-hoof spread
beneath parcels of first-word
   owls: his echo walkers Sloped

to a gain night-poised they walk
   back a perfect whole TRUE head

Zero fobbed lives bleed back