A Tragical Tale
She has a fever.
I leave her dozing fitfully on the veranda.
Halfway to the woods there is a farm gate
where she will often squat
and piss.
The grass is brown, but still thrives,
strangely adapted to uric rain.
Paris the giant poodle is here,
his nose a rapier seeking past and present.
Several dogs from good families arrive
to vie with each other
in search of her ‘wherefore art thou?’
Tragically, Romeo (a bulldog neutered last week),
today plays alone
with his squeaky bone.
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