Was it the Bishop of Barking
who announced that Dog is dead?
Was that really what he said
or was he just skylarking?
The dog had strayed into my school
and I made friends with him, or he with me.
I was seven and too enamoured to see
we were each in our way a fool.
He followed me the mile to my home
where I lived with my dad and mad mother.
I thought of him as a possible brother
though I could see he was likely to roam.
Each day I fed him, hugged, had a chat.
I grew much attached to Dog:
a friend to hold in the fog.
I should have left it at that.
He followed me back to the schoolyard.
The principal called the cops who rather
with pleasure shot him, I gathered,
and thus my new-love died.
I watched from afar as they wheeled him
in a barrow, with kids shouting with fun
and buried him in Judd's Paddock. The gun
intrigued the kids and the cop showed it to them.
Later I looked in the tall grass
for his grave with a mouthful of dread.
After three days I saw him in the distance - risen from the
dead!
A secret, secret thing that I kept from the class.
