Ode for Ted

Ode for Ted (with apologies to Sylvia Plath)

I could do without the alarm that sounds

at the least provocation.           .

The affronted expression on the faces

of harassed neighbourhood cats.

Lace curtains of collie snot

swagging the windows.

Pre-dawn chorusing in spring

while foxes rut.

Your fame amongst scooter-riding kids,

cyclists, and joggers in the park

verges on legend. ‘Hey Ted,’ they say,

as you whirl on your lead,

which means

‘Keep that crazed dog away from me!’

You’re black and white to them.

They miss the versatility

of my personal trainer

who brooks no slacking, my saviour-

dog in a manger, my angel

with healing kisses.

You would fetch the moon for me,

out-growl the roar of invisible seas.

My furry comforter, my guide.

The dark poet at my side.

Poem ©Deborah Harvey 2011

Illustration ©Dru Marland