"Well, that's funny," he thought. "I wonder what
that bang was. I couldn't have made such a noise
just falling down. And where's my balloon? And
what's that small piece of damp rag doing?"
Piglet, from Winnie-the-Pooh, by A.A. Milne
Two bits of damp rag – indeed!
Redressed from breasts as large
as Granny Smith’s were meant
to be; in red no less, and huge
in Piglet’s view of worldly things,
as big as he, deflated yes, limp
and wasted – dishonoured in
munificence pneumatically.
We remember them with Piglet’s
eyes my dear; Eeyore, surprised
was duly blessed, a birthday gift
which burst yet satisfied a simple
need. It never lost its charm and
nor will yours in fondest memory.
© 19 May 2008, I. D. Carswell
Poet Allison Cassidy claimed her once
pneumatically magnificent breasts
were rather like Piglet’s burst balloon
these days... I really should have let
the matter rest there
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