2007-04-23
The dangers of Hennypenny
A musculature of elucidations
A bustle of witnesses
A wicked henchman
And we were through.
Oscar found the werbatrun in the wardrobe.
We caged it in a pretty metal pen
Built for canaries and found he’d chewed it through.
There was no evidence of him but excrement.
I might have picked it up but my gloves were new
Buckskin and soft as spring feathers
So I let Hennypenny do the honors.
In the library, we found the porcelain bust of Trollope
Smashed to bits, the first edition of Austen
Chewed to ratty clobbers. I bent to sweep it up
But Hennypenny beat me to it,
Then clasped my buttock on descent.
Ruinous Hennypenny, that fair-haired flounder
I twitched beneath his touch
My flittering heart determined not to be revealed
I bit his hand and stepped away.