Elizabeth’s Guinea Pig
Madam, a diversion the courtier says
and scoops me, not unkindly, from the basket.
You know me: a bean-bag with petal feet
which flower hot or cold depending on the mood,
fur whirled in a double crown
on my brushwood-coloured rump. I'm on her lap –
a stiff skirt on which pearls grow like clover
so naturally I eat. Alert to looming shadows,
I forget to be alert and soon am wholly gone.
A purring daze, blood-heat release –
it doesn't matter. I'm passed on, not unkindly,
to the cook's daughter. The day before,
the day after, it’s my turn
to be the gift again, or be the queen.
*Julia Bird grew up in Gloucestershire and now lives in London. She works for the Poetry School and as a freelance live literature producer. Her first collection Hannah and the Monk was published by Salt in 2008.
Note: Elizabeth I was reputed to have kept guinea pigs