Tuesday Poem: “That Foul Accountant of My Wife!” by Zireaux

Still from the 1923 film, The Hunchback of Notre Dame: '...My mental portrait fattened / into plump and Quasimodian life...'

Still from the 1923 film, The Hunchback of Notre Dame: ‘…My mental portrait fattened / into plump and Quasimodian life…’

And hunched and hairy and beastly-shaped.
No neck, although its head looked shrunk
enough to be the stalk or trunk,
of headless monk (an ape de-caped,
so to speak).

                              “Which one? Which one
of you’s Arcady Robinson?”

Bowed short legs, broad shoulders, slender
loins, vermicular arms, lengthy hair,
and puffed up torso, as if both genders
joined together, merged in cleaved
and clumpy surge of flesh somewhere
above the hips.

                              The water received
his rubber dinghy, and ferried it
toward us, the way a waiter would carry it
— level and smooth — were it a tray
that held a hairy canapé.

Did I resent that calm, obedient
sea? So welcoming (compare
that with my own arrival!
)

                                                            ‘Where’s
your – stop that! – your one ingredient
of fixed net worth!’

                                  The cretin – now clasped
by smelly, delighted and blighted Sayeed
— still scanned the dim-lit isle and rasped
a first impression:

                                  ‘Your what’s-it-called.
Release me, sir! The terms agreed
oblige the undersigned” – he trawled
a trouser pocket, produced a letter,
or no, a document – ‘the debtor
undersigned gives promise not
to liquefy an asset bought…’

Oh Megan-Muse! Although we hadn’t
met before, I soon divined
this fellow’s form! My hunch aligned
with fact. My mental portrait fattened
into plump and Quasimodian life.

That foul accountant of my wife!

The man who ka-chinged her bell (may he rest
in peace), the dwarfish Pan who hexed her
— and sexed her — was here now manifest!

‘…an asset bought with aforementioned
loan,” continued undaunted Dexter,
“without the undersigned’s intention
approved by said Investor.’

                                                  He stalled,
then hoarsely shouted: ‘Your what’s-it-called,
you vehicle, your boat – it’s gone! The barge
on which we hold a “floating charge”…’

…tbc

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More Tuesday Poems at Tuesdaypoem.blogspot.com.

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Filed under Poetry by Zireaux, Res Publica, Book Two