Sacrifice to the Minotaur

 

The linnets gather on the ling

And watch the knitting party pass.

Another morning thick with dust,

The men and women click and cough.

 

The ponies start their circling trudge.

A pipit rises then is lost.

The children gather at the pit:

One spits his blood into the sedge.

 

And from within the moaning starts,

A roar so deep the slagheap shifts.

The children by the ladder shake.

The knitting party help them down.

 

Their sacrifice will never still

The Minotaur’s half-human lust.

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3 Comments to “Sacrifice to the Minotaur”

  1. oh God Gavin. That is spooky. Particularly the knitting party.

  2. I read that folk going to work in the lead mines would knit almost constantly – both for clothes to wear and for raising a little extra money. They would even knit on their way to and from work (up on the moor tops). Thought the sound of knitting needles across the moors would have been… as you say, spooky.

  3. I thought you meant, it is compulsory to keep going when you knit, even though it is boring and reptetive. ‘you are on a tred mill…..’ But guess mining is so much harder up there in winter. This works very well Gavin. keep up the good work.

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