I guess you have a new house and a new puppy, Max? but not a new wife? sorry,
if I seem confused on the details, but the wife would be _Lorraine_?
This last image is vivid, maybe because images of injury always are:
>There's a black thread stitching his suture,
>and an inflamed empty scrotum
>just behind his idle little lipstick.
and I felt sorry for the puppy, though that's the 'facts of life' for domesticated
pets. But then I started to think, a mistake probably that usually follows from a
thorn of a word that sticks in my cortex, but isn't there a great deal in this
image, comparing an 'empty scrotum' a 'neutered prick' with a woman's 'idle
little lipstick'? Since I have worn lipstick a time or two, a rather unpleasant
image results from the metaphor! and at least as compelling as nostalgia for a
now 'empty scrotum'. Well, don't mind me if you don't like this response, but
there's a gender subtext sleeping in your poem, what with the two squeamish
12 year old girls, and you could push the poem into taking it on and take it to
some other level. But, this may be just me, now I'm going to go back to working
on those poems where I have a dick :)
and best of luck with the new dog and the new house and the old (dare I say it?)
wife,
unneutered,
Rebecca
---- Original message ----
>Date: Wed, 8 Feb 2006 09:25:50 +1100
>From: Max Richards <[log in to unmask]>
>Subject: Snap
>To: [log in to unmask]
>
> Glove and Scrotum: a Puppy Tale
>
>The vet was booked for Monday:
>the pup would be neutered,
>at seven months and none too soon -
>he'd started humping his bed, swaggering
>in the park, bossing other dogs,
>with his growing testicles
>and the makings of a proud pink erection
>('his little lipstick', a friend called it).
>
>Starve him before his op - standard advice.
>But first the phone rang (Friday) -
>Lorraine here, and I'm still only part way
>through the cleaning, but the puppy!
>He's eaten the soap from the shower recess,
>and well, I've got most of it back.
>And while my back was turned,
>he swallowed one of my rubber gloves.
>
>Sorry for your worry, Lorraine.
>We expect the glove will turn up
>in a day or two, just like the sock
>he wolfed down a fortnight ago.
>If a sock can pass right through him,
>why not a glove?
>
>Time passed - my sharp eye
>round the back yard identified no glove.
>How far might it have proceeded?
>Sunday showed us - at the feet of two guests,
>twelve year old girls at their most squeamish,
>Vanya arched his back and spewed forth
>a great grey mound surmounted by
>a five-pointed shape. Welcome back, glove.
>But why so much squealing girls?
>No need to leave the house.
>Haven't your cats ever done such a deed?
>
>Monday morning, puppy enters the vet's,
>cocky and curious as always,
>is signed in and left for the day.
>At five we reclaim him, groggy and slow.
>There's a black thread stitching his suture,
>and an inflamed empty scrotum
>just behind his idle little lipstick.
>
>Max Richards
>
>Doncaster, Melbourne
>
>Wednesday 8 February 2006
>
>
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