понедельник, марта 28, 2005

It's on a plane that Harry tells me about his dog,

a Pointer with the long ears and square muzzle,
the strong, spare body that locks into position
like a well-oiled gun when it's primed to shoot,
except that Harry's dog not only likes to swim
like a labrador fetching ducks, but like a fish,
that is with his head immersed and eyes wide open
staring into the sea, coming up to Harry underwater
and shoving his nose up close, letting out a bark
that sounds like a small thud and sends ropes
of excited bubbles floating to the surface.
Never mind the legs thrashing and the tail trying
its best to wag and steer at the same time,
forget the lack of gills or of any attempt to sieve
a bodyweight of plankton through his teeth,
this is a dog who sees no difference between
himself and fish, enjoying the element of both
and a good shake between the two,
which isn't far removed from me and Harry
knocking back a drink and chattering
like sparrows as the plane takes off.

Chris Beckett
"The dog who thinks he's a fish"

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