366 Days Later Poem by Richard George

Piggy-wig? Peccary,
if you don't mind.
This is the New World. British Bongduras.
I've got things to do -
I've not been standing around waiting for you.

FIVE P? Do I look duncible?
It's antique silver,
not your mass-produced rubbish.
Chuck me the folding, just for now -
and I'm going to need a local anaesthetic.

That turkey - well, actually,
he's a quetzal with a weight problem -
he's got a nerve.
Weddings and funerals?
It's delusions of bureaucracy.
He's not licensed, you know -
it won't be valid
in some of our northern provinces.

Don't get me wrong, love,
but has it ever occurred to you
you're marrying your breakfast?
A mate of mine once lived with an armadillo.
Didn't work out, though.