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).