> Hello Helen,
              I´m not quite sure what to make of this piece. I take the incident of the dog attacking the sheep to be the main subject of the poem and I´m wondering how all the other things have got in. The change from one element to another can be rather sudden and without any clear reason. For example, the change from the opening scene at the tea table to `last night´ when the dog killed the sheep comes right out of the blue. The use of the present tense `waits´ brings the reader into the presence of the dog just as suddenly, and in the next line we are back at home with mother. I´m not clear if she is on the phone at the same time as the rest of the family are having tea. So I find the sequence of events a bit confused and arbitrary. Also, some of the details included don´t seem to have any function. Is it significant to the poem that father and son haven´t spoken? or that the guinea pig is dying? or that mother is blinking more than usual? These were my thoughts as I was reading and it´s possible, as always, that I´ve overlooked some vital element that would make everything fall into place.
I was also surprised by the word `chirping´ used about the guinea pig. I´ve never come across this but I suspect that you probably know it to be the correct word. If so, it raises an interesting question whether a word that is technically correct but which is usually associated with quite a different sense, should be used or whether an alternative is needed. Problematic, that.
I hope these comments are useful.



Best wishes,   Mike



> Lähettäjä: Helen Clare <[log in to unmask]>
> Päiväys: 2004/02/14 la PM 05:40:43 GMT+02:00
> Vastaanottaja: [log in to unmask]
> Aihe: New Sub - Birthday Tea
> 
> Birthday Tea
> 
> Over vegetable chow mein and chocolate cake
> father and son talk for the first time in months. 
> The guinea pig stuffs his head in the crook
> of my arm, dying slowly, chirping muffled
> tempted to eat only by parsley. Last night
> a dog cornered a labouring ewe. Throat torn
> lambs taken. The dog gated, waits to be shot. 
> My mother pacifies a drunk over the phone
> with practised patience, blinking even more -
> in her voice the resignation of the herbivore.
>