Friday, 1 September 2017

'Black Dog' - poem by Frans Budé

Black Dog

Return, labrador retriever, to the house
of your much-loved bitch, seek a way in.
I know: it’s enough to make you whine, you, worn out
in your old age, bad breath, your gums a
nasty red, your failing kidneys.

The lumps on your paws slow down your
former tempo, your heart bangs away in the wrong
place. Go on, return to your loved-one’s house.
She strokes with her eyes, beckons with her ears,
between the paws under her tail sparks

shoot up that set you all ablaze.
So: do, re, mi, duet! sings the clarinet:
give your girlfriend your great male charm, approach
her with affection, stretch out your crimson tongue,
feel your heart beat and know as of old:

she has a place for you, move that black coat of yours,
grow back to your first night. Lug yourself
afterwards off to your basket, poor old chap,
look up, look down, music evokes the urge,
One last spiral turn and sleep.

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