This boy, he says, the street
dogs here are bigger than anywhere
else. The Mongrel raises his golden,
sleepy head.
Fly stuck on nostril, the dog’s
lazy paw etching circles. Post-prandial,
the lovers wish to play. With dogs
and distraction.
Even this day he says, it must end.
In agreement, the dog sits the head
back on grass. She likes vertigo on
the edge.
In a room somewhere, an airline ticket
(printed, on A4) waits. He becomes
silent, she talks too much, disturbing a
sleeping dog.
This is so beautiful, I think I am going to cry. It’s all so clear.
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OMG. There really is a fly on the dog’s nostril.
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It’s so nice reading your posts and poems from India-gives one vicarious pleasure. He’s such an adorable dog too. And London has JUST become colder than Delhi. It’s been my warmest, sunniest winter here so far…
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I really wish I had a dog…
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This poem got all those memories of ma pet dalmatian….I lost her last year 😦
Nicely written…..
Greetz…
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