Guest poem submitted by Aseem Kaul:
(Poem #766) The Grey Squirrel
Like a small grey coffee-pot, sits the squirrel. He is not all he should be, kills by dozens trees, and eats his red-brown cousins. The keeper on the other hand, who shot him, is a Christian, and loves his enemies, which shows the squirrel was not one of those.
I can't pretend to have read very much Wolfe - in fact, this is about the only poem I have read - finding it in anthology long ago. But this is a poem I've never been able to forget, not only because the wonderful combination of short lines and a simple rhyme pattern clings to me and makes me tingle all over rather as though a whole host of laughing squirrels were chattering away inside me, but also because it so wonderfully exposes the hypocrisy of organised religion. Whenever someone asks me to explain the meaning of 'tongue in cheek', I have an urge to quote this to them. Aseem.