Image by Art Rachen


the madrigal, volume iii

She was a ruminant preacher

by desmond mansfield

She was a ruminant preacher
Her son was a bag of doubloons

Yet not once did these facts feature

In the mossy words on their tombs

The reason for this was simple

Her daughter paid the masons fee

Yet she was but a small wrinkle

On the inside thigh of a tree

Desmond Mansfield is an Englishman in Edinburgh. He’s new to publishing poetry with work so far in Dreich and Runebear weekly. He’s a big fan of whimsy.