Quatrina by Neil Fulwood

A half halved. A quarter moon. The Sign of Four.
Two slices across the pie chart. I’m sorry; let
me start again. I’m talking about dividing or
multiplying by four, the answer or image you get

by quartering or quadrupling. Or what little you get
from a quick trawl of the library shelves: The Four
Feathers, Four Past Midnight, Four Quartets, and let
us not forget Four Children and It. Why do five or

seven get the better deal? Enid Blyton and the rich ore
of children’s fiction, that’s why! If it’s not Five Get
Kidnapped by Somali Pirates then it’s Seven for
the Cup, Good Show, Hooray! Give me a break. Let

me disentangle from their tea-time adventures, let
the tomboy and the girly-girl get better acquainted, or
the dog make a break for freedom, run wild, get
its Jack London funk on. Let anarchy come to the fore

and words give numbers what for. Yes! And let
no quarter be asked or given. And let the reader forget.

Neil Fulwood was born in 1972 and got involved with poetry at an impressionable age. His interests include visiting inns and taverns of architectural interest. Some people confuse this with pub-crawling.

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