Escape By Poetry

A man entered and walked briskly up to Arthur..

Aha! said the man. The attendant told me you had a promising knife. Have you got him out yet? And the other one?

I thought I had, said Arthur, but they've gone back in again.

Damn! said the man. I am Dr Adam Yates, Curator of Earth Sciences here at the Museum. I was hoping to get down to tin tacks this afternoon.

A comparison? said Arthur, doubtfully.

No, more than that, said Dr Yates. I want to make a video. With them in it.

Cool! said Arthur. Will there be light bombs?

Light bombs? said Dr Yates. I hadn't planned any.

Haven't you see the Impossible Varan? said Arthur.

No said Dr Yates. But I've heard of it. Wasn't that a Japanese movie from the fifties?

Yes, it was, said Arthur. What sort of video are you going to make?

Oh, one of those where you reconstruct a creature from the few parts you have, and invent the rest, said Dr Yates.

You should have light bombs, said Arthur. Or no one will want to see it.

You don't know much about science, said Dr Yates.

I know about art, said Arthur. Well, poetry.

Poetry, said Dr Yates. I'm partial to poetry. Give me a poem.

I've given it up, said Arthur.

Once a poet......said Dr Yates. Go on.

Arthur was easily persuaded. But he liked to take a bit of time over his poetry.

Come and sit down over here, he said, and I'll work something up.

They sat down between a replica giant freshwater crocodile and a replica of the largest bird that ever lived, the dromornis stirtoni.

These giant replicas are quite inspiring, said Arthur, so I won't be long.

Take your time, said Dr Yates, forgetting why he had originally come into the room.

He looked up at the ceiling, humming, and waiting for the poem.

Ageless and Baby Pierre squeezed out of the cleft in the replica rock with a minimum of scraping, and tiptoed towards the door.