1927: Herding

I have to guide his words through
narrowings – skittishness – a flock
of unintelligent beasts with single
furrows – they say – less ideas/ In

pints he sips bravado [& guile] as
our conversation touches upon a
difficult subject/ I‘ll drink with this
racist because he does not insist
on justifying subfusc ignorances/

His wife joins us [she’ll writhe – at
his babble] & I consider – do they
screw – how can you fuck a racist?
A stupid query – & others [rightly]

ask me – how do you drink with a
racist? I hope I guide him through
his one-eyed view – I say – my ale
sits in my gut – we empty troughs
[once my stock dog work is done]

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *