Mr Boo, be still
It’s 3 a.m.
Furhead simulacrum of my restive heart
You do, you do, you do as you will
Bother, bother
... Poppa, Poppa!
Transformado en mi gato
Oh, mi Dios
The things night brings us
Am I dreaming
Are you really you, or you
Companion on this distressed plot
Your wakefulness, health
Mine not
The broken-up bits of me
Scattered, shivering like mercury
Tickletickle
Pother, pother
Willie Nocturnes’s now my father
Hullo, Poppa
Hullo, Sonny
Say, wasn’t that you I saw in the funnies
Mr. Bissou
It’s so late, Boo
Willie Nocturne
Now it’s your turn
Off you go, then
I’m your father
N-O, that spells no, sir
Oh but oh but oh my heart so
Sore is, Poppa
Sore.
This poem appeared in the October 6, 2011, issue of the magazine.