Poems

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                                     I
A man pushes in front of you in Co-op.
You eat the man then ask the cashier
for Menthol Super Slims and change
for the bus.

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                                     II
There’s a puddle in the park
that your friend’s dog shows
a fondness for. Remove your coat.
Fold it. Take off your shoes,
tie the laces and fling them
at an impossibly high branch.
Having doffed all clothing
double-dress your friend.
If alone, dress the tree already sporting
a fabulous pair of brogues.
You’ll wade through the water,
realise it’s only ankle deep.

 

                                     III
When the postwoman ignores the
No Shit Through the Door, Diolch
you put up yesterday, drench her face
with your claws, lest she forget
and repeats the mistake.

 

                                     IV
Be kinder to pigeons. Really.
They are your lost childhood
reincarnate in pigeon-form.

 

                                     V
Sleep. Belly-up
whenever
wherever
the sun
cares to shine.

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                                     VI
Poop discreetly.

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                                     VII
Ignore all written instructions henceforth.
You are not illiterate or dyslexic or slow.
You’re a fucking tiger. Deal with the thing.

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This poem was shortlisted for the Troubadour International Poetry Prize 2018.

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What the judges said: "7 Ways of Being More Tiger, by Hilary Watson: yes, I’m sold. I’d like to be more tiger. Witty, fun but always truthful, the poem brings to life our internal, helpless everyday emotions and directs them through tigerishness towards a roaring resolution. The plain, direct language enhances the push and pull of the poem, its drama and comedy."— Jo Shapcott  

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