Felicity Teague

.1

The neighbours' garden gate was slightly stiff,
like me, I thought, arthritic at thirteen.
I made towards the sheds and caught a whiff
of all the pee and poop I’d come to clean.
The guinea pigs were welcoming and well;
I placed their carry-case inside the hutch.
They trotted in, dear Goldilocks and Belle.
I stroked their hair; they chirruped at my touch.
Next up was cleaning Lady, big and black,
the rabbit who was often in distress.
I crouched and something gripped my lower back;
the cramps? I spotted blood upon my dress.
“I got it!” I exclaimed. And Lady leapt,
escaped across the fields. I stood and wept.

Felicity Teague (Fliss) is a copyeditor/copywriter by day and a poet/composer come nightfall. She lives in Pittville, a suburb of Cheltenham (UK). Her poetry features regularly in the Spotlight of The HyperTexts; she has also been published by Lighten Up Online, Pulsebeat Poetry Journal, Snakeskin, The Dirigible Balloon, The Ekphrastic Review, The Mighty, and a local Morris dancing group. Most recently she was a finalist in The Ekphrastic Review‘s ‘Water’ contest. Other interests include art, film, and photography.