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The Manhandling of Gilbert Gripes by Stewart Stafford
Scrummage in a birch wood,
Pyrrhic rut for an oval prize,
Grinning studs rake my face,
A flayed Garryowen as sport.
Cauliflower ears throb with fear,
Thunderous hooves charging,
Poleaxed by a car crash tackle,
Nosebleed kiss tickles my lips.
The rite of passage staggers on,
A butcher's initiation of brothers,
Cutthroat razors kindly supplied,
Wealthy primates whoop in safety.
© Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.
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