Myxomatosis by Philip Larkin

Caught in the center of a soundless field
While hot inexplicable hours go by
What trap is this? Where were its teeth concealed?
You seem to ask.
I make a sharp reply,
Then clean my stick. I'm glad I can't explain
Just in what jaws you were to suppurate:
You may have thought things would come right again
If you could only keep quite still and wait.

by Philip Larkin

Other poems by 'Philip Larkin'

To Failure

If Hands Could Free You, Heart

MCMXIV

I Have Started To Say

Sunny Prestatyn

Money

Wedding Wind

Going

Ignorance

I Remember, I Remember

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