'Piglets' by Mark Russell
Tiny snuffling bundles,
Pink and warm and smooth.
Nestled snugly in a pile of hay.
Their mother watches proudly
Over her young, healthy
Baby sausages.
'In Our Attic' by Mark Russell
Creatures are coming,
Scurrying in the shadows
With bright, glowing eyes.
They're gnawing and scratching
Lurking in the filth of
Our attic.
When we search for them,
All we find are pale blue grains
Scattered around the lifeless body
Of the rotting, smelly rat.
But they continue the pitter-patter
All of the sleepless night.
'The Painter' by Mark Russell
The pointy lizard
With table tennis eyes.
The chameleon's flexing tongue
Engulfs its prey
Hearing a crackle of broken,
Sticky limbs.
Melting colours, flowing
Seamlessly from its skin
Like a river of paint.
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