The Hamster Chronicles

1.

Too young to know,
we watched the little fluff ball slowly
curl up and leave us, bit by bit,
putting up a hamster fight, something small but
memorable in its way.
Mum nursed him, laid him on a hot water bottle
and watched him through, then buried him
beneath a tree in the garden. Weeping.
A tree we later used as a goalpost,
though I always felt a twinge
when the ball thumped there.

2.

My last experience of death
was less drawn out,
the way things seem to be as we get older.
She was a birthday present from my ex-,
and I came home one night after drinking away
some feelings I didn’t want anymore,
to find her in a cartoon pose,
legs up and stiff, to match my cartoon life.
Being older, I was less inclined to weep,
and dropped her in the bin
on the way to work.

But I did feel bad about it though. Later.