Friday, June 30, 2023

Rumination and Resultant Cud By Allan Lake

 All days are not extraordinary, except

on cheery greeting cards that should 

have stayed home in primeval forests. 

On this ordinary – uncivil, murderous –   

day I shall clip toenails, my own. 

Clip, clip, lop. Before asking, 

What is the meaning of it all? 

ask my big toe if there is any meaning.

Finely ground rule: No response = No.

Having settled that, could one walk 

along the beach while eating a pear or 

some peanuts? (Someone spoke for peach) 

Though not a dead prince or Prince or even 

Danish, I do enjoy the latter – w/o capital –   

with tea at cafe by fishy sea as I consider 

deep-then-shallow questions: shall I fork 

out serious  money for a pedicure?

How long, O, frayed piece of string theory? 

Re string, measure or ask famous wandering 

Chicken, after learning to speak Chicken.

WHO knows, but only after years of under-

funded research. They have also concluded 

it’s just for the moment we live but 

that’s something, isn’t it? Ask Alfie, 

ask Alice, ask Google then yodel.

Still, I’m not inclined to kill anything –  

sheriff, lamb or kid – even if one skates 

over my foot as I’m butchering long- 

neglected toenails. However, to not kill 

things like mosquitoes may make them 

stronger so action – violent, legalistic –  

is required before a statue of limitation 

is yanked off its pedestal. See you round, 

Liberty, you gorgeous, gun-totin’ gal. 

There’s still a pandemic for Nature’s sake. 

Rest of my life? After saving the world 

from whatever via poetry, lie (down) 

on sofa in front of empty goldfish bowl. 

‘Rest’ as in ‘remainder’? How is one to know 

what a different one means?  Post tire, retire.

We arrive at comfy sofa either way. 

A bang or two, then a whimper followed 

by a brief lie (down) til expiry then 

a kindly permanent one. Follow-up scene 

is science project as specified by organ 

donor in amended will, compliments 

of on-line Free Will Kit, to be located 

under socks. Much depends on cud. 

Will chew on that as I paint my nails.

Allan Lake is a migrant poet from Allover, Canada who now lives in Allover, Australia. Coincidence. His latest chapbook of poems, entitled ‘My Photos of Sicily’, was published by Ginninderra Press. It contains no photos, only poems.