For Monkeys
Twilight
At night
They came running in, one by one
The monkeys
Heading for
Fruits and feed
Left on my front lawn
I grabbed my gun
Go on! Leave!
I snapped and shot and
Shot spread across the garden
I am the guardian of my lawn
And the monkeys are not welcome
Any more.
My father, he loved them,
My mother, she loved him,
So the monkeys kept on coming
And coming
And coming
When my pair of parents ruled this house
But I’m not them.
I hate the monkeys.
Each time they come it reminds me
You are not here.
You can’t hear
And so without fear
I pick back up my gun
And fire another round,
And another round,
Again and
Again.
One monkey clambers up a tree
To look at me
I raise my gun
But I can’t shoot
It’s smiling eyes and
Its wet mouth
Dare me to take such a pretty thing
Out of life
I can’t.
I’m sorry.
It’s only a young one.
I lower my gun.
It’s not for fun.
Then what is it for?
I stare around my lawn.
There are bodies littered back and
Forth.
At least four are still alive,
Crawling, scrabbling,
Shot with shot in their back,
But still breathing somehow
My heart is hollow.
I’m sorry mother
I’m sorry father
I turn and shoot the struggling monkeys
To put them sound to sleep.
Four gun blasts
And a quiet yard.
So quiet.
I wish you were still here.
I cannot live with these monkeys
As your memories
One day they will all be dead
And I won’t remember you,
I’ll move on
Instead.