Dogwatch
…time moves in an oboe polka from slug
slow to impish sprite, flits in heavy privet,
snakes under town tractors, hides behind
wheelie bins, always a nick ahead of
the quick, automatic click, the belated
enough glance, the I’m looking for you look,
off it skedaddles, darting, flitting, slick
freezing stone still, mischievous, keen alert,
a baby Pan messing in misty morning moonlight.
I am busy elsewhere, cursing these bogus charts
messing with focal planes, vanishing points,
hocus-pocus concepts of moon, window-
frame, yucca and squint till boss-eyed, purblind,
I miss the goings-on altogether…
Grimbeau 