[Ann Drysdale]

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(Proving that, in the eleventh month of enforced solitude, one gets one's inspiration where one can...)

Synchronicity

The house honks and a fusty gust appals
my nostrils. While I laboured in the loo,
Cat, in her litter, did the ritual waltz
then squatted down and defecated too.
Our mutual relief is evident
and nothing I can do will stop it stinking.
Cat nonchalantly cleans her fundament.
I sip a cup of tea, sniffing and thinking.
Like typists in a pool, whose monthly flows
will shift until they menstruate together
we two have shat in unison, which shows
how close we have become to one another
and though the smell is bad, the thought is good;
a token of a sort of sisterhood.

[Jim Moonan]

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Inspiration? It is inspired as a seed in soil manure!

[deleted attempts at off-color humor]

Good light verse and good comedy are blood brothers.

No crits from me... Brilliant.
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[Allen Tice]

Could it be? “Oh! Celia, Celia, Celia shits!“ - sniffed Jonathan Swift. Oh well, wotthe heck.

[Martin Elster]

I often wish that my dog would go in a litter box. Excellent light verse!

[Andrew Szilvasy]

Ann,

The verse is doing exactly what you aim for, never an easy task.

Given that, take everything with a grain of litter.

"fusty gust" — maybe too much?

I've gone back and forth on the effectiveness of "Cat." Part of me likes it, part of me feels it's a bit of a tontoism to fit the meter.

"appalls" "waltz" is a fun rhyme. I've heard people—and use myself—"waltz" in a way fundamentally divorced from the dance (she waltzed right in), but I wonder if "ritual" muddies that.

"Like typists in a pool" feels a bit outdated as a simile, at least in my understanding.

British English has "menstruate" as 3 syllables I take it?

[Andrew Frisardi]

This is a hoot. I love it. Re. Andrew's question about "menstruate," I'm one Yank who does say it with three syllables.

Much-needed comic relief in the midst of this inexorably dark month.

My one quibble is that I envy you for having a cat that uses the litter box! Ours outright refuses, so has to more or less live outside. He does clean his fundament indoors, however.

[Andrew Frisardi]

This is a hoot. I love it. Much-needed comic relief in the midst of this inexorably dark month.

Re. Andrew's question about "menstruate," I'm one Yank who says it with three syllables.

My one quibble is that I envy you for having a cat that uses the litter box! Ours outright refuses, so has to more or less live outside. He does clean his fundament indoors, however.

[Rick Mullin]

Ann,

This is a remarkable poem. An affirmation of life mid-apocalypse. A poem like the cat that is so ugly that it's cute.

Silly comparisons aside, you take your familiar voice just about anywhere--something I really admire. Here you have an affirmation of nature, human-/animalness at the level of simplicity and necessity. The connection is a wonderful way of insisting that life goes on and, more importantly, noticing it. The opening sentence is truly intriguing, a kind of knot that satisfyingly comes untied in due course.

I don't like the title, but congrats on this one.

Rick

[Roger Slater]

I love it. Whoever said that there are only seven things to write about would have said there are eight had he thought of synchronized shitting. But seriously, I wouldn't exactly call this light verse, though I don't mean by saying this to invite discussion of what exactly light verse is or isn't.

[Jim Moonan]

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"But seriously, I wouldn't exactly call this light verse"


Ah the irony. It is both. There is a sub-genre of light verse that defies the label.

I can't help but think of my good dog Oakley who, after a good shit in the woods, back-paws the detritus material that carpets the forest floor as if to bury it and then bounds away, seemingly lighter for having relieved himself of a burdensome weight.

But the real deepness in this is comes from the synchronicity. That's what makes it deep-light.

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