In a huddled corner I long for cuckoo pint, marjoram
Lush swathes of grass to brush and burr my fur
I am not a lush kitten, but an old mistress
Once called Pip, called RonkaConka
Now nameless prisoner of aching bones.
None comes to rescue one-eye, having served
My useful days on laps, my paps hung with tinies
Little tumblers long gone, no longer mother but ratter
Perhaps? I offer that.
I am forest, I declare I know how to dig a beetle
Pull the skin off a mouse so it looks like liver
I once caught a bat; its shrieks unnerved
The cold teeth of night, the neighbour’s dog
Bayed for blood, I charmed him through a gate
Dragging kills past his jaws
My eyes a gorgeous weaponry of hate.
I am wormy and I dribble
but I am still half-lovely
I want to stretch upon a hot doorstep
Eat cold tinned lungs, exude the smell
Of stinky worn out shoes, beloved
For what I am,
A whiskered nemesis, fallen star and ever, poet.
veronica aldous all rights reserved 2018
Picture shows my art and my poetry books now available on Lulu. Be lovely if you bought one! Click below.