Gamekeeper's Son

Main beam on. They squeaked it
from the wood edge, wary,
brush dragging, eyes gold
in the glare of lights. One shot.

Aye, his old man said,
I wouldn't care to stand
at three hundred yards
and live on the difference.

He brought the body up to show her.
A vixen. Beautiful she whispered
at the fine teeth, the delicate feet
she wanted to touch but didn't

(from Living on the Difference )

© Mike Barlow