FLOTSOM
Our old dog scratches her nose
on the carpet — an asana –
this is her house more
this is her house more
than ever as the first heavy
rains of winter fall in late
autumn. We sit before the fire
two old lovers resting between
domestic chores. Passion is on
TV now, and the politicians are
playing their first quarter. A news
helicopter tracks the PM’s car
to Government House as
our old Cavoodle scratches on,
a giant hairy worm wriggling
on the faux Oriental rug, layers
of meaning washing up
like syntax on the high tideline.
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