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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 19:09:25 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 162372
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Squirrel
[time] => 2010-09-19 01:19:59
[hometext] => This is something that happened to me several weeks ago, involving a squirrel.
[bodytext] => I was at work Leia called me from home Distressed It was about a baby squirrel No more than 5 days old Who had been brought to our door step By the always gracious Sammy Instead of sinking his teeth in the whole way He decided to draw the whole thing out As cats are wont to do And left it there On the doorstep For all to see Leia thought it dead So she waited for me to come home and Deal with the situation When I arrived I thought the job would be simple enough I requested a shoebox And thought of my trumpet Collecting dust in the closet Waiting to be blown to the tune of TAPS But probably too funny I guess But something changed The little devil Still had some fight left Got some gloves And picked it up The first time I picked up a living thing That had no weight to it at all Placed it in the shoebox Once intended for death Now intended for life Next to a hot water bottle That it would come to think Was its mother It had to be thirsty The internet said to try Pedialyte So I went to the store and came back again And waited for it to yawn And eye-dropped some into its mouth I picked it up Looked for marks 3 or 4 bites Blood dripping from under its arm Where Sammy’s teeth had been Leia became distraught Left the room It was just me and him Blind Helpless Alone Crying for his mother For anyone And I then felt responsible For his life And a weight and darkness I’ve felt before Started to close in again But now I was older Maybe a bit smarter this time Quicker of action Knowing time was against us And his greatest threat I stayed with him the whole night Waited for the yawns again To eye-drop the fluids To keep him going For just a while longer As his tiny little claws that looked like flecks of dirt Straddled the water bottle With all of his might Hoping it was mom I started making calls at 7 am Hoping someone could help him Time passed And passed some more Finally, a call The woman told me where to bring him We had to wait some more Me and him I told him to hold on Hoping he understood English Or at least the tone of my voice The intention That I was on his side I took him to the car Kept the sunlight off him Couldn’t take my eyes off him Which made driving rather difficult He was twitching No Convulsing I imagined his last breath would be as I arrived at the place But he was still fighting Desperately holding on The gate was locked So I waited some more And he struggled some more And finally they came Maybe not knowing how serious it all was And opened the goddamn gate We road down together on a rocky dirt path Me and Pinky Finally arrived The girl picked him up out of the shoebox His arms and legs flailing about Said he was cold and thirsty They took him inside and warmed him up While I waited outside She came out and said that they were fighters And that he had a good chance I asked if they could keep me updated They said they couldn’t That the rehabilitator would see 20 more just like Pinky If I had known that would be the last time I’d see him I would’ve said goodbye Hoping he understood English Or at least the tone of my voice The intention That I was on his side So I left the place Road down alone on the rocky dirt path And cried [comments] => 0 [counter] => 108 [topic] => 31 [informant] => Brad_Paxton [notes] => Please leave at least three comments for every poem you post. Thank-you. ~ Moderator_18 Sep 19, 2010 [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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