Jealousy
After the last boom and bust crisis
we decided to pull in our belts
and dispense with life coaches,
financial advisers, crystal
healers, personal bodyguards,
spiritual guides and gurus
and take responsibility
for the children and pets ourselves.
She watered and fed the kiddies,
combed their hair into a parting,
read them bedtime stories and
scooped them up when they fell.
I watered and fed the animals,
kept apart antagonists,
undertook respectful burial
and composed an epitaph.
Whilst on a cheap vacation
we crept upon a rabbit
who neither ran nor hopped away
as I stooped to pick him up.
His weeping eyes were swollen,
the fur was fairly crawling;
she said it’s
myxomatosis
and I threw him to the ground.
She argued for swift dismissal
to alleviate his misery;
I preached non-interference,
let nature take its course.
She said she’d do the job herself -
I was jealous of my territory
and beat him with a cricket bat,
the end was slow and bloody.
Later on that holiday
we met a wildlife expert
who told us myxomatosis
isn’t inevitably fatal.
Some develop immunity
and recover former vigour:
now when the family play cricket
I can only field or bowl.
No comments:
Post a Comment