Ode for Ted (with apologies to Sylvia Plath)
I could do without the alarm that sounds
at the least provocation. .
The affronted expression on the faces
of harassed neighbourhood cats.
Lace curtains of collie snot
swagging the windows.
Pre-dawn chorusing in spring
while foxes rut.
Your fame amongst scooter-riding kids,
cyclists, and joggers in the park
verges on legend. ‘Hey Ted,’ they say,
as you whirl on your lead,
‘Keep that crazed dog away from me!’
You’re black and white to them.
They miss the versatility
of my personal trainer
who brooks no slacking, my saviour-
dog in a manger, my angel
with healing kisses.
You would fetch the moon for me,
out-growl the roar of invisible seas.
My furry comforter, my guide.
The dark poet at my side.
Poem ©Deborah Harvey 2011