The Hare With The Amber Eyes Poem by nigel colledge

THE HARE WITH THE AMBER EYES

A few words of explanation first

Catalogue Description - Hare with raised forepaw. Ivory with eyes inlaid in amber buffalo horn. Signed Mashatoshi. Osaka, circa.1880. Length 3.7cm.

During the 19th century in England the sight of a ladies ankle was enough to get a man excited, homosexuality was a crime and lesbian relationships kept discrete. On the other side of the world all things erotic was the way of society which was reflected in the art of netsuke.

Japanese men wore pocketless garments so needed sagemono pouches fastened with netsuke, often of risqué design. Today the majority of netsuke offered for sale on E-bay are the image of the fisherman's wife's dream, attention is focussed on the sexual bliss on her face as she is pleasured by one or two octopi.

Author Edmund de Wall inherited from his Uncle Iggie the family's collection of netsuke and tracked down their history, he says "they retain the pulse of their making".

This is the thought behind my poem.



I am an innocent, in this den of depravities
I am a virgin, White Hare, with Amber Eyes
Mashatoshi in Osaka, created me, a netsuke
Only me, no more Hares to be chased, by Dostoyevsky

The fisherman's wife's dream, forever offer a prayer
There are 264 netsuke, in the space we share
At midnight, our pulses come alive, briefly
What is an innocent, like me doing, in this carnality?

Gay men, gay women, boys and geishas, all in a scrum
The fishermen's wives, so many of them
Briefly, ecstatic, women, living their dream
being pleasured by octopi, for me this is extreme

Charles EphRussi, in the1890's, joined us together, collectively
A wealthy banker, indulging in the craze, for Japan-is-me
We lived in a black, lacquered vitrine, in a Paris boudoir
While wife Emmy dressed, her children a donné beaucoup d'amour

Oh! What joy, to be fondled and loved, truly sensorial
Like it was when I was created, at a time immemorial
Then hidden away, when the children had gone, like time sands
Hidden away again, when searched for, by swastika armbands

So here we all sit, for 150 years after our assembly in a turnkey
There are lots of men, women, boys and girls, frogs, rats, and a monkey,
Bears, dogs, cats, elephants, tigers, lions, door mice, field mice
We all stay, our nightly rituals continue, erotica for them, is so nice

In another 5,000 years, when cities are reduced to rubble
Will a young child, pick me from the dust, for a cuddle?
Love me, and cherish me like Mashatoshi, and never again depart
Or a distant grandchild of Emmy, hold me with love to their heart?