35. Poetry

35.2. Poemotions

35.2.6. Text of book

Start of page 315 in the book

Part Fifteen

Afterthought: Our Dumb Friends

Prologue Fifteen 316

Cat's Head 317
Don't Ask About Tom 318
My Vole 321

Start of page 316 in the book
Prologue Fifteen

The last three poems in this collection are described as an afterthought. All the previous odes were about humans. Here we are describing animals.

No, that's a mistake. We are not describing animals, but how humans react to animals. So that's all right. We are still on the track of human beings, and how they live their lives.

A licking cat is watchable in high summer in Sussex. Another cat makes his besotted owner unhappy by dying - if that's really what he did. Finally, my vole. People think it strange that a man should love a vole, with skin so silky brown.

Start of page 317 in the book

Cat's Head

The cat's head moves in circular motion
anticlockwise

As, gracefully flopped on the white steps in the flower garden,
it for ever licks that furry breast

As behind it
sunshine declines on the grassy Sussex downs

As around it
late birdsong rejoices at high summer

Start of page 318 in the book

Don't Ask About Tom

I

I admit that cat was a stand-in
substitute lover, genuine love
deserved and got the best I had
best grub, best strokes, best words
only vessel for a copious store
now no more

Should-be mistress, should-be wife
should-be springer from my loins
sprang up the curtain instead
swished his tail, leapt on my lap
looked decorative and knew my ways
shared my days

Tom grew quieter, feeling his age
white specks flecked the treacle-dark coat
clients noticed, said kind things
I chatted on, snipping away
held up the yellowing mirror, smiled them out
knew no doubt

II

That terrible morning it was bank-holiday
no scratch at my bedroom door
dim light in the curtain-drawn salon
dark shape in Tom's basket, motionless
legs I saw outstretched, stiff; tail not astir
heard no purr

Tom was not cold; hope stayed alive
telephone the impatient vet
not worth his while to come, he said
spoiling a holiday for a dead cat
was just not worth his while
so, with guile

Start of page 319 in the book

Other vets I essayed to lure
found one at last with human heart
kind, till he felt poor Tom
dead without doubt, why bring me out?
was all he had to say, then left
me bereft

III

Jim the carpenter was kinder though
told me I had to bury Tom
left holiday to make the whitewood box
screwed him in; brass handles at each end
helped dig the hole and put Tom in
shared my gin

Then in the salon, I tore and tore away
making blank squares for notices
'Don't ask about Tom' I wrote, then stuck them up
all round the walls for regulars to see
I might snip on, if they'd ignore my mask
and not ask

Would that suffice to keep his grave intact?
what value has a proud, spare cat
to people who are crass, and jest
even about their own most precious hopes?
drained and spare, I climbed the stairs to bed
filled with dread

IV

One o'clock moonlight: old truth showed
a movement in the patch of ground
Tom had not left, for we were much too close
bare-handed, I grubbed to the coffin's shape
pulled off the lid, grabbed the limp form
felt it warm

Start of page 320 in the book

I exulted, screamed in my delirious joy
screamed again at the chill beneath the fur
fell screaming, clutching the loose earth
was lost till Jim, my new-discovered friend
came running, eased me back to bed
bathed my head

V

The idea came from Jim, I had none left
he told me that he knew a taxidermist
next day he drove us there, Tom in his box
it took no time, and poor Tom slept all through
now from his basket, Tom yellow-eyes me again
soothes my pain

Start of page 321 in the book

My Vole

I have a vole.
I sleek him with my fingertips,
and brighten his eye with endearments:
he is my vole.

I mustn't say his name
for people think it strange
that a man should love a vole
with skin so silky brown.