For months, he'd been pulling a bag along
with him, his new-found friend
at first it grew slowly,
and then after a while
accelerated, and grew more and more rapidly
until it was cutting off
between shuffling in his bed
of thin cuttings of soft paper
bundled into a ball, a
cocoon, a coffin already made
for himself. I remember
the days we didn't need
to worry about the bulldog
clips on the cage, because
he wasn't going to
crawl up the chimney, not today,
and cleaning would only disturb.
I remember holding him, a baby
again awkward in
my hands, fragile. I remember
massaging the fur, slowly, so
slowly, circling, urging him to
We passed him between us, his
last minutes, seconds, nano-seconds
between the family. My turn
I took him to the radiator,
kneeled down, prodding him,
waiting for him to wake up, warm up,
stop pretending to give up on me.
©Katy Murr 2006
(Don't slaughter me if you think it's crap, I know there's a lot more work to be done, it's only the sketches of something at the moment.)
Few things about it:
What do you think of the stanzas? Reckon I should try to regulate them? I tried to keep it so the line-lengths and the stanzas vaguely represented what I was talking about, or pushing at.
The repetition of 'remember' - perhaps I'm pushing this a bit, and it should be more subtle?
'accelerated, and grew more and more rapidly' I especially don't like this line, I like the repetition which strings it together, but overall, it seems weak: the language ought to be a lot more specific, I think.
Oh, and incase you're wondering, it's about a hamster. & yes, he did indeed climb up the chimney.