By Aidan Murphy
I am a Samurai hedge-cutter
Three times a day, religiously,
I polish my blade to a cutting edge
sharp enough to cut through bone,
but no one calls me on the phone.
If I keep up payment on my advert
in the window of the local store,
and in The Golden Pages
under A for Arboriculture,
I will be bankrupt soon, before
I've had one chance to prove
the mettle of my sword. Some days
I wander through the suburbs,
my weapon hanging idle on my belt,
glaring at men with strimmers and saws
whose racket insults my silent profession,
knowing I could with a warrior yell
and a sweep of polished steel,
turn lush hedgerows into leafless stakes
and unruly bushes into lifeless peel.
© Copyright 2005 Aiden Murphy. All rights reserved.
{fcomment}
