Culture

Set: Opening

2 sonnets for badgers

Artwork by ATM streetart - www.atmstreetart.com

By Aidan Andrew Dun,

1.

The badger's grand set, opening

like a tunnel of the Northern Line

only lacking mock-Doric coping;

and the pungent smack of his urine

hitting, an aromatic barrage

not the stench of a pissed-up carriage

somewhere between Morden and Burnt Oak.

He must be an industrious bloke

excavating in the small hours

not unlike some nocturnal poet

hollowing-out, when all is quiet

underneath his ivory towers

making room for good supplies and stores

to keep barren winter from his doors.

2.

Long-striped in his lunar night-field

big thickset badger's underdog

in this day: his fate is sealed.

Roaming once East Warren in the fog

he used to prowl behind these hills

digging up coneys with claw-drills

dustclouds under his tail, grunting

power-shovel with bloodlust hunting.

Now you find him on the verge

as roadkill of the juggernaut

fine-tuned nostrils sunk in asphalt

where three flashing highways merge

a strange two-dimensional corpse

emblem of the natural world's collapse.

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