By Antony Dunn
To say nothing of all the moths and wasps
I’ve been opening windows for;
the sheep headlocked in the wire
of a fence,
the newt in the slippery inch
of a dog-bowl of rain,
the spider coming off and off
its wall of death in the kitchen sink
and the bat flopping the living-room floor
in a straight-jacket of dust, cobweb and hair.
I have angled your skulls
poured you out into colour-matched weeds
at the edge of the pond,
offered you into a wineglass and out
to the forest of herbs
and taken you into my own
unravelling hands and worked you loose
in this borrowed house; let you go
on the slopes by the buzzard tree.
Now, who’s coming for me?
Happy August! Apparently my Monday was so boring before my movie date that I claimed it had been Tuesday when I blogged last night. My Tuesday was not particularly more eventful, though I did more chores out of the house -- got gas, got bagels and a couple of groceries -- and the weather was again on the cool side for the end of July, entirely tolerable, so I also walked in the park.
We did not watch anything appropriate for Harry Potter's birthday, but we did watch the very stressful penultimate season episode of The 100 (NO MARCUS) and catch up on Cloak & Dagger, which has been terrific all season, and Succession, which makes King Lear and his family seem like such nice people. And the Nats beat the Mets 25-4! From Star Gazing Farm last weekend, rescued animals: