Furry Ones with SprinklesA Poem by Andrew JohnFreeverseThey
said this strange man ate his squirrel: such
a lovely arboreal rodent, a creature that nibbles. First
he eats its legs, then its body, but
omits the heart. That is precious. What?
We do not eat a squirrel? Boiled, broiled, roasted or raw? With sprinkles? There
are strange people who choose certain
creatures of fur. But never one that gnaws? And
those spirited, spunky sprinkles? There
are strange folk who resist a pitter-patter, with
or without a squirrel, whether it be boiled or broiled, even
roasted or raw - without those sprinkles and,
of course, those spatters. There
are funny folk. They
don’t eat an arboreal gnawer? And
do we think of Gnawer and his ark - with squirrels? So
odd how we ponder on
creatures of fur, with or without those
spirited, spunky sprinkles. Brains
do the oddest of things. (20 Sep 2024) © 2024 Andrew JohnReviews
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