Halfway through my self-imposed month of otter-themed NaPoWriMo poems! Time for something ridiculous, I feel.
Double the otter is double the fun,
if you could have two, why would you have one?
Double again so your otters are four,
That’s eighty sharp claws on your new parquet floor.
But four is no party, let’s make it eight,
And if you consider their full-grown weight,
That’s almost three hundred and sixty kilos
of otter, pissing all over the dado.
Imagine the stench when you get to sixteen!
Never again will the hearth rug be clean,
The destruction that one thirty-two-otter raft
Can wreak on a free-standing cast-iron bath!
When the sum of the blighters hits sixty-four,
Flee from the mayhem and move in next door!
Just pray that they don’t take up playing bassoon,
This one-hundred-twenty-eight-otter commune,
You may be afflicted by pains existential
If otters keep breeding at rates exponential.