Mr Taylor

Probably a polar bear was not a good choice
for my first attempt at whittling.
A hamster would have been simpler
and avoided the multiple leg fractures.
“Don’t worry girl, no problem”, Mr Taylor said,
when I showed it to him.
“Leave it to me.
Bit o plastic wood,
That’ll soon sort it”
and it did.
The tail was more challenging.
But all was not lost, just the tail,
and I managed to convince the Examiner
that polar bears don’t have tails.
Maybe they don’t.
I’m no expert.
I progressed slowly, and probably
a rocking elephant was not the best choice
for my Final Piece.
There was a lot to cut out,
a lot of curvy bits.
The huge electric saw bench
loomed ominously in the corner.
“Don’t you go near that, girl”
cried Mr Taylor if I glanced in its direction.
“Here, give it here,
Leave it to me.
There you are.
Now just a bit o plastic wood...”
And then disaster!
Someone stole the rockers.
Who the fuck would steal my rockers?
They never rocked very well,
but even so, they were better than nothing.
And Mr Taylor was hard pressed
to make new ones
in time for the exam,
even with multiple,
“No problem, don’t worry, girl”s,
I was concerned.
But in the end
we both passed.





First published in Algebra of Owls, November 2016