So many nice things I could have written about circles, and I come up with something completely opposite! Goodness knows why goats popped into my head, but I kept thinking about the habit we have in New Zealand of tying a goat on a rope to a stake in the ground, so that it grazes the grass down in a circle. The poor goat is often left to graze down grass verges with no access to shelter or water. It's a real issue for the SPCA.
As a child we had three goats: two lovely docile females who called to each other from their respective corners of the lawn, and one very aggressive billy goat, who used to charge anyone who got near him. I actually love goats (and goat's cheese), though I guess you wouldn't know it from this poem.
This one doesn't feel finished, but I couldn't work out any other way to end it. I like the first two verses, then it kind of loses its way. In case Hamish still reads this blog I would like to point out that it is not about us, or in fact anyone else I know!
Beastiality
It seems we’ve been here before.
like goats we have worn the grass
down around us straining at the
tether that keeps us in place and together.
Frustrated we move in circles,
gnawing hungrily at every corner
of this relationship until
all fresh green tips are gone and
we are left gumming dry roots
and spitting out soil.
This marriage has reduced to a
four-legged cantankerous beast,
held onto because its all-consuming
habits would take too much effort
to cure or dispose of.
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1 comment:
It's a good metaphor, I think. You are going well, are you going to do the last two?
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