There against a stone wall
was her black and chrome Raleigh.
I roamed my eyes across the fields
anxious for a glimpse of her stooped frame,
her burnished face crawling with lines
and of course her headscarf-
but still sporting a hunting scene;
and men in red jackets
with little horns at their lips.
Surely she bought it in a hurry
and did not notice
the panting tongues
the drool of saliva
the staunchy starchy bellies
of the men on horseback.
Not even the bloodied fox.
Shame on you mother (Nature)
Did you not see the fear that was frozen
into those glazed eyes?