Yvonne Litschel

collective consumption

another problem eels don’t need.

cracks in the riverbed becoming

how to harvest a rabbit

from powdered sugar. moon cut

into the thumb & not even

a razor. I can’t read

Plath’s poem about the vegetable knife. gathering

geese on Fridays hatched from oysters

counting fish: they always said they would

eat me first, I’m grass-fed

as close as you get.

field study

called countrycide it’s when

world’s largest carnivorous plant

nofficial ginis without ginis

caught catching sheep unsheered

sneer though it’s serious think

if the lamb was left

vine-twined tactical

like this pacify quite quick

not counting crows or dogs

ill-suiting insomniacs the sheep

on their backs and off them berries benefit

from fertilizer first study the spires

that beacon comparative to

gorse the straight is defensive

a hook isn’t only for water

they make stone piles

and wool dn’t escape

ask the farmers how many

sheep the brambles claimed

Yvonne Litschel is a poet and artist living in London. Previously she has read as part of the European Poetry Festival. Her debut chapbook Moth Dust was published by Sampson Low in 2018, and she has recently published her second pamphlet Immurement with Broken Sleep Books. @yvlitschel yvonnelitschel.com