Taxidermist

past the wood 
where witches lie,
past the slaughter house 
and pig sty,
jawbones and teeth 
rot on the floor, 
I dare not open 
the cellar door,
the master he rests 
with blooded hands,
he’s cut the throats 
of the goose and lambs,
he baits the badgers 
and cuts off their heads
dances with serpents 
in his taxidermist shed,
the mans a bastard 
his heart pumps lead,  
he gets his kicks
from 
redressing
the 
dead