Many people say to me, Kirsten, we know that otters love jazz, but what of otter politics? I reply that I am convinced most British otters would vote Corbyn, where the Californian Sea Otter community has come out strongly for Bernie Sanders. (Many have donated a few clams to his campaign fund).
Some say this is grotesque anthropomorphism of the kind disdained by serious conservationists, others accuse me of projection. To them I can only say:
Otters Of the World, Unite!
Answer me this – what if otters were potters?
Does living by water make their clay wetter?
Do they throw sloppy pots that all teeter and totter?
Does holding down splatter make pots a lot squatter?
Surely it follows their kilns should burn hotter?
They must buy their wood from a local wood-cutter
(Wood-burning kilns being certainly better
to use than electric, when potting near water).
But what if the cutter bamboozles the otters,
never once offering wood on a platter,
but ripping them off with some shitty sales patter?
Lining his pockets, the cutter gets fatter,
while locked into poverty, knocked on their uppers,
the lot of the otters just never gets better!!
Will the otters not notice that something’s the matter?
Will discontent not sound its note in their natter?!
Revolt and rise up, oh you down-trodden otters!
Even fat cutters need pots made by potters!
Tear down the kiln-wood-monopoly rotters!
Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of nutter.
Todays’ poem is brought to you in lieu of the official NaPoWriMo prompt, which is dull as the bottom of my shoe.