Bull In A China Shop

 

‘all breakages must be paid for’

She told the bull in the china shop

As he stamped his hooves impatiently

And snorted through his ringed nostrils

 

So he tiptoed around glass cabinets

Admiring the fine white porcelain

The delicate hand painted vases

The plates and cup and saucers

 

Until he saw the red beating heart

Pumping rhythmically ka-boom ka-boom

And something stirred within him

Not the crimson but the movement

 

His eyes rolled back into their sockets

Head down he charged for the exit door

And all around there crashed glass and clay

Until the air was filled with flying shards

 

She never forgave him for his indiscretion

Not understanding the basic animal urge

To flee upon the sight of flowing rich blood

That gave substance to what he feared the most

 

And for his part he never missed that stifling shop

Where every movement could have brought a cost

And where he knew he could never have been happy

With those delicate pretty objects of his dreams