Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Jo Bell

THE MINOTAUR SCHOOL

THE MINOTAUR SCHOOL

THE MINOTAUR SCHOOL

We blame the parents for these ash-pale mongrels
hurtling their bones from room to empty room.
 
Not their fault they’re a bag of hide and bollock,
whale-bulb head and cankered knee, buckling
as they belt towards another dark dead-end.
Their cueball eyes, their soft bland brains;
each one alone in his own panic
smelling for a golden thread
suckling anything that might be mother.
 
It’s all you can expect.
At night we hear them bellowing their terror
through the long blank corridors.
Close

THE MINOTAUR SCHOOL

We blame the parents for these ash-pale mongrels
hurtling their bones from room to empty room.
 
Not their fault they’re a bag of hide and bollock,
whale-bulb head and cankered knee, buckling
as they belt towards another dark dead-end.
Their cueball eyes, their soft bland brains;
each one alone in his own panic
smelling for a golden thread
suckling anything that might be mother.
 
It’s all you can expect.
At night we hear them bellowing their terror
through the long blank corridors.

THE MINOTAUR SCHOOL

Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère