He was my first love.
Why else would I cycle, every Saturday,
to the museum in the park?
It wasn't the working model
of a coal mine; or specimen jars
of seasonal wild flowers;
Or the families of striped snails
and black and white plaster mice
demonstrating the Laws of Mendel.
I headed straight past the jigsaw-
coated giraffe (its head peering over
the balcony) to a case
stuck away in a gloomy corner;
but not so dark I couldn't see
the glossy pouch of his penis and balls.
He was posed against a backdrop of jungle,
one arm grasping a vine,
standing on two legs like a man.
The boys at the dancing class
(I always got the spotty or fat ones)
gripped me with clammy paws.
His hands were like padded gloves
stitched from smooth black leather.
He could swing me off the floor.
I looked up at his lolling tongue;
at his jaw of ferocious teeth.
I gazed into his yellow eyes:
And he gazed back, as if to say,
if you loved me enough
you could bring me back to life.
The United Kingdom’s international organisation for cultural relations and educational opportunities.
A registered charity: 209131 (England and Wales) SC037733 (Scotland)
Our privacy and copyright statements.
Our commitment to freedom of information. Double-click for pop-up dictionary.
Open the original version of this page.
Usablenet Assistive is a UsableNet product. Usablenet Assistive Main Page.