Large Fierce Mammal

In the Summer of the year 2010, I published a poem here called A Codger’s Lament that spoke of semen samples, sperm counts, and the agonies of travail. I recommend clicking here to read it before going further.

Tonight’s Dark Sentiment also speaks to the agonies of travail, in quest of the same outcome … so to speak … except this time in the wake of a husband’s vasectomy. A tale effervescent with the eager assistance of his Loving Wife.

I’ll leave you to decide what to swallow with this.

Sperm … Count

By LFM

For vasectomies going to plan,
In ten weeks come as much as you can,
To drain every hide where your sperm would abide,
Thence to lab with a vial for the scan.

To the hospital door came a cab,
With a woman who raced to the lab.
She’d some semen to mount for a swimmer cell account,
And had nary a moment to blab!

But while she did all in her power,
The trip took her more than an hour,
Though the lab tech perused it, she had to refuse it,
As the milk, so to speak, had gone sour.

Spoke she, “It’s too old, sad to say,
“So there’s nought but to throw it away.
“Go and get, if you can, a refill from your man,
“And come back with it later today!”

The lab tech proffered her a vial,
Which the woman received with a smile.
She said, nodding her head, “He’s still tied to the bed,
“I can fill twenty more in good style!”