29 March 2005

Carol Peters

Dog No Dog

The yellow dog head advances, swinging
from side to side, followed by muscles,
the yellow body, flippety puppet tail.
Me all terror, not terror, supplicating
hands outstretched, petition, that is to say,
my threat: Stop here. No. Stop here.
Lippy horsy mouth, teeth behind.
Hey, Pup. Stop here. Go away. I hate
dogs, bounders, that is to say,
this is my day and my beach.

[20" rain in 3 days = duck bliss; still raining]

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