It pains me to say this but last night, Jack – my bearded dragon – passed away.
We don’t believe he was unwell in any way, just that it was his time to go. Having rescued Jack a few years back, it was clear he wasn’t looked after well in previous years and I do know for sure that he was an old boy. He has done amazingly over the last few years, stealing hearts of everyone who met him – especially our girl, Daisy.
Understand that, with this occupying my mind today, a completley unrelated blog post was difficult to write. Now, how else does a poetry blogger honour something or someone they love? A poem, of course.
This isn’t a sad/heartfelt/soppy poem dedicated to Jack. This is a throwback to an old poem I wrote about him. This little guy was my escape. I loved just chilling with him after a long day, there was always something serene about him and being in his company. That is probably what I’ll miss most.
I hope you enjoy the poem, guys. This is ‘Audience of Zero’.
An Audience of Zero
The second bedroom / spare room / reptile room
that is home to three bearded dragons
and a black busted Fender acoustic guitar,
just might be the best place for a hide-out.
Call it a retreat if you feel like listening to
your neighbour’s shitty beats, on repeat,
loud enough that the whole street could hide-out.
And so, you strum an Oasis song even louder.
Wonderwall is not listening to your shit through the walls.
Wonderwall is getting stink-eye from a lizard, who
wants to know when you’ll put down the plectrum
and pick up the box of crickets instead.
That was my original intention when I entered the room
but I was distracted by a fucked-up ‘BOOM, BOOM, BOOM’
coming through the brick and I had to hear music, quick.
And I saw the shadow of my black busted Fender acoustic.
And they showed no interest in a James Blunt song.
But they showed love when I plucked my own tunes.
I watched my reflection in the glass… playing guitar to a lizard.
And so I put down the guitar and reached for the crickets instead.