A twitch of a tail ago,
a small-brained primate waits
on the edge of change.
Soon she will have neater teeth,
find speech in her shrunken jaw.
Her ape-like spine will stack tall
like a toddler’s tower.
As her feet release their grip,
her mind will take flight,
and she will unleash pogo sticks and petits fours
Is there Bakelite under that brow right now?
Has she thought up Staffordshire?
Does she know - surely she does -
that one day,
she will sing-a-long-a-long with Michael Bublé
pumped with antacid and sertraline,
she will save £££s on her broadband,
oh, she will choose between ten different brands of packed ham
A twitch of a tale ago,
she picks the fattest berry.
The air sings with the birds
and it too
If you have any
thoughts on this poem, Nina Parmenter
would be pleased to hear