Poems

Love-lies-bleeding

9 July 2015

1:00 PM

9 July 2015

1:00 PM

Of course the bride’s dog came to the wedding
and was allotted a chair at the top table
at which he sat with a gloomy expression

and a chewed satin bow.
The groom fed him morsels of pheasant —
laughing rather theatrically


when his finger was nipped
and the blood dyed his table napkin
a shade to match the azaleas.

A honeymoon is no time for
blood poisoning. Surely it was sunstroke
or an allergy to the spiky local fish?

Excitedly aghast, the wedding guests
re-assembled for the funeral.
The dog was left at home

but he didn’t seem to mind.

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