Hating Ferrets
comes from the canonical tale where a ferret bit into the bone of mum’s hand / as she tells
it that bastard thing hung from her digit / blood rivulets along its length / incisors
embedded /as she reached for the shotgun
one of those Elmer Fudd type double-barrelled numbers / or so I imagine it / she aimed it
point-blank at the ferret / which for dramatic purposes / I’m assuming was white
somehow she pulls that other arm back far enough / now Diana the Huntress with added
Rambo / and fires –
the rest is implied in silhouette / but likely included a lot of cleaning up / both human and
/ to a greater extent / ferret
Wrabness
was it the warring wrasses
the swans’ wan brawn
how we brothers nabbed crabs
swabbed from under catamarans
branflakes banned only chips
geological slabs of buttered bread
we wren wraiths skittered furrows
between dust-smothered huts
their wooden slats dashed
in pristine beans of April hail
hitting thin sand-smudged panes
that looked out to that tower
as though Big Ben shed its
skin slid its way here to rear
over this estuary how we saw
reflections in saltish grainy
Stour water could swear there
were others staring back up
___________
Caleb Parkin is Bristol City Poet, widely published in journals and commissions. He tutors for Poetry Society, Poetry School, Arvon and holds an MSc in Creative Writing for Therapeutic Purposes. Wasted Rainbow (tall-lighthouse), This Fruiting Body (Nine Arches).