Archive for October, 2009
Weasel
Finally, I’m off my sea creature kick…
Weasel
By Marie Gordon
You were my weasel
And I chased you
Like a monkey
Through the bushes
Weasel eyes popped up
From behind oaks
And mulberries
For me to chase
Such round weasel eyes
Big brown and sweet
Pop up and sing
Glimmering chirps
Oh my sweet weasel
Where do you go
You slink under
Rustling bushes
You sweep my garden
Clean of carrots
Robbed of parsley
My loot is gone
Sweet weasel, you’re mine
You chirping mouse
I sink my nails
Deep in your fur
Your little eyes peer
Oh how you squirm
Begging mercy
But not this time
Weasels do flutter
They sing and chirp
Furry instances
Fleeting moments
Captured, my weasel
Imprisoned rat
Ready for truth
Taxidermy