Crab of the Land

Crab of the Land is the first published volume of works by Michael Banyan.

Pages 35-76 of the volume are notably completely blank.

Poems
Cow Grate Cow grate, Come off it, mate. You aren't great.

Your metal bars have turned these cows to prisoners, This field into an Alcatraz, That trough into a visiting area.

That dawdling frog, a prison guard's dog. That scampering shrew, A bent prison screw. That heron flying alone, a hovering security camera drone.

That scarecrow on its stick, the evil prison governor's dick. That barbed wire fence, its just still a barbed wire fence.

Old Cow Wise old cow, your udders have lost their rubberyness, your hide no longer shines, your hooves are grooved with countless miles of wandering. Your tits gone dry from years of plundering.

Your eyes have lost their gloss, but what have they seen? Those ancient eyes, a man walk upon the moon, Kennedy come and gone too soon, the last chopper out of Saigon, Margaret Thatcher and Major John, Rock'n'roll, the pill, the NHS, Lady Diana hopeful in her wedding dress. Watergate, the Falklands, 9-11.

And then I remember, that even the oldest cow was born in 1997.

Caah Soft as a mother, Smooth as a latte, A beefy oblong with the eyes of an angel.

Black as night and white as snow, You're like an edible domino, Or a coat hanger whose burden isn't shirts, but meat. Stand up. Raise a glass, and give yourself a hand, You are the crab of the land.