Knockers (Part 4)

 


Panther. Not your regular cat family adornment.

What happened on Thursday?

 

My employer’s long term pet project was coming to fruition. I’d never agreed with its aims.

 

With just hours to go before launch it was revealed that my employer was, contrary to perceived wisdom, head of an organisation with principles running in stark opposition to those established by the founders of my organisation. This discovery provoked me to speak out against the project. The two of us entered into a climactic showdown.

In what I perceive to have been an act of support, my work colleague entered into a physical confrontation with my employer’s direct report (who was thankfully of comparable physical strength). There must have been something in the air that day, my partner also ended up in an altercation with my employer’s secretary (an Aryan blonde with a severe outlook).

As I learned more about my employer's project it became clear that it had impacted upon many. For example, my father – hitherto thought deceased - was revealed to be alive and highly capable. I was surprised and pleased to learn his separation from my family was coerced and that we share a similar sense of humour.

The four of us were able to cancel the planned project launch through a mixture of physical strength, team work and problem solving. I think we all learned something important about ourselves. There was an explosion. Once everything had been settled, my dog (who we all thought had died in an earlier explosion) returned to add a paw to our team hands in, in celebration of our success.

I'm not facing any disciplinary action for entering into a physical confrontation with my employer. In fact, my partner, work colleague, father, dog and I received medals from regal officials on a podium.

Effects unknown

 

Papillion. That's a much better name than butterfly.

Naturally

The young man and the sea

Archie Meades

Meg ran away often.
As a collie, she was expected to herd 

but the only
gathering she did was
when her vanishing acts
led me to the water's edge
to see her splash and strut
in the shallow parts of the bay.

She sensed my limits:
my school shoes
and the evening schedule.
And I knew two things: Meg hated
the feel of water on her head, and the ferry

and its wake would come every two hours.

I waited hours in the hope
she would yield to my murmured, merman pleas. 

Balls and replacement stones went fetched, 

unreturned and forgotten. 

Calls to heel were screened. 

Would she have done the same 

with sheep? She loved this 

immersive theatre.

It always ended with one of us 

wetter than we wanted,
a frequently repeated washing cycle.
We never had a chance 

to speak about it

on account of her being a dog.

Early print

Even used my hands.

Future tense

Vinyl whispers erode my froth as I sit with coffee in someone's wedding china. Me in shorts, my feet in brogues.

My pencilled K. Amis
brings me to
brandy-starers
with family crests,
leather headrests in

clubs with fees and

rich mahogany.

I and them, we
are soft-boiled men
in wooden rooms,
backwards facing
like train options or
babies after milk.

Progress, like cutlery,
can be found
in the kitchen.

Knockers (Part 3)

These stern beauts came from a house with multiple lion fixings.

 

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