by Donald Davie
Brush of a raven's, not an eagle's wing!
No wonder older classicists could wish
For something more cathartic than this King
Who spooned his baked-meat children froma dish.
With Jung and Frazer, Tylor, Graves and Lang,
The scholiast can wash the blood away.
But what's the use? The savage poets sang
Enormities that happen every day.
No talons raven in a titan's gut
When dreadful fathers of a fortnight's date
Are drowning kittens in a water-butt.
But see, a baby's finger in the plate!
From:
Collected Poems
Copyright ©:
1991, University of Chicago Press
Last updated March 09, 2023