Sylvia Fairley: Day Thirteen

It was surely well-meant, when my lover-boy sent
   me a surfeit of creatures with wings,
but I felt my love dwindle (I’d hoped for a Kindle),
   though I welcomed the five golden rings.

There were geese and swans laying and swimming and straying,
   excreting all over my garden;
with milking and dancing, and leaping lords prancing,
   my heart was beginning to harden.

My ears were attacked by a piping band, backed
   by twelve drummers who drummed up a rhumba.
When we reached day thirteen, I was certain I’d seen
   something wicked, contained in the number.

He gave me a coven, a gaggle of sloven-
   ly hags from the labyrinths of hell,
and I told him “We’re finished, my love has diminished,
   I’m finally free from your spell.”