National Poetry Month, Day 13.
Postcard from Piccadilly Street
Dogs are the
unheralded voyeurs of this world.
When we make love
the spaniel shudders
walks out of the room,
she’s had her fill of children now
When we make love
the spaniel shudders
walks out of the room,
she’s had her fill of children now
but the bassett—for
whom
we’ve pretty soon got to find a love object
apart from furniture or visitors’ legs—
jumps on the bed and watches.
we’ve pretty soon got to find a love object
apart from furniture or visitors’ legs—
jumps on the bed and watches.
It is a catching
habit having a spectator
and appeals to the actor in both of us,
in spite of irate phone calls from the SPCA
who claim we are corrupting minors
(the dog being one and a half).
and appeals to the actor in both of us,
in spite of irate phone calls from the SPCA
who claim we are corrupting minors
(the dog being one and a half).
We have moved to
elaborate audiences now.
At midnight we open the curtains
turn out the light
and imagine the tree outside
full of sparrows
with infrared eyes.
At midnight we open the curtains
turn out the light
and imagine the tree outside
full of sparrows
with infrared eyes.
--Michael Ondaatje
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