Morwydd: The Mulberry Trees

Grotesquely gnarled and warped Two mulberries lean creaky towards each other Like ancient lovers Their bark is warty and bulbous as a toper’s nose They are Elephant man in the final stage of living A ghastly gash in the side of the taller tree Is filled with plaster, like a surgical cast Clapped on by a clumsy medic, ‘do not resuscitate’ Their hideous carbuncles are whiskery with twigs You half expect them to cackle The elder of the pair is leaning its weight Onto a sturdy prop, like a Chelsea Pensioner’s stick No birds alight on their branches Which writhe like Medusa’s hair A berry-eyed buck rabbit crops the grass Its small teeth snish and snash In the pulsing fur of its jowls Its ears, two wings of skin Are almost translucent