Saturday, 9 April 2011

Saturday Poem

There are times I can’t even understand
myself for this damn stammering.
It is only here in this tarred shack
I can say something straight out
like I hear in my head.
This dog listens–right, boy–after all
we gnaw on the same fucking bone.
My neighbour, what does he know
for all his learning?
I’ll not stutter my courtesy,
blurt it out for his sake today.
I’ll step where I please.

Damn that bitch of his,
always at my heels,
why can’t he keep it tied?
Can’t I walk the ground without that?
I’ll keep my complaint to myself,
silence serve best, as they say.
Then, God, I’ll have enough of it–
it can’t come too soon.
From Animals of My Own Kind (2009) by Harry Thurston.

No comments: