WITH REGRET

According to Georges Dumezil
A flamen dialis may not touch dogs
Nor she-goats, ivy, beans or raw meat;
Neither can he name them. Beans
I can live without and raw meat but dogs
Would surely run after me
Laughing at my inability to shout
"Dogs are chasing me!" And what
If she-goats come to me for advice?
"I cannot talk to you any more;
I have become the flamen dialis"
Cuts no ice with a she-goat.
(This problem with she-goats
May be why there's been no flamen dialis
For the last two thousand years.)
I admit I might enjoy freeing prisoners
And tossing their chains to the street
From my impluvium once I've found out
What an impluvium is. I am flattered
But still must decline your offer.

WALKING

Max and God walked home from work some nights

Talking about their jobs -- they were in the garment trade –

And my grandmother Esther, a mystery to them both.

The walk was long --12 miles or more from 39^th Street

To Snediker Avenue. Two dogs walked with them

Until they crossed Grant Street. A block or so later

A grey and white cat would appear and pretend

He just happened to be going the same way.

Max had gradually stopped being a believer

But never said so, lest he hurt God's feelings.

AESRED HAS THE NUMBERS SOMEWHERE

In 1338 Venice counted each household’s

Men, women, boys, girls, servants, 

Livestock, windows and gondolas. The dogs 

Reluctantly subscribed themselves

As "servants." Most cats

Insisted they were the Doge. Others

Were content to pass as gondolas.

UNDERSTANDING

Dogs he understood, and cats would nod to him
As one well fit to give counsel in perplexity
But of the language of birds he had little
Enough to ask for directions, perhaps,
Or to know a joke was being told. Just as well,
He said, to hear birdsong as music. Winter geese,
If you let them, could break your heart.

REPORT

From the sky’s fifth quarter comes the wind
Houses shiver; the trees pretend indifference
Though the dead leaves turn green
And swirl up to their former stations.
Senior dogs are gathering in alleys,

Trying to plan a measured response;
The cats frantically barricade the streets
With old crones' bones and blank gravestones
And mortared confessions no one owns.
On its hook in his shop the butcher's apron
Sings gay and gaudy lies about him
A poem comes to my hand; all beak and talons
And crafty eyes turned cold with rage.

DOGS AND CATS

Dogs and cats used to visit the Lvoviner
Mostly towards dusk. The dogs would loiter
In the courtyard, pretending surprise
That accident had brought them there.
A gesture from the rav, one eyebrow raised
Or lowered, even a shrewd glance
Would satisfy them. Cats, though,
Convinced they were kin, would just turn up
In drawers and closets, under blankets,
Staying as long as they wished. Cold nights
Found them on the Lvoviner's chest, claiming
They were there to keep him warm.

A LATE ADDITION TO THE COURT OF THE LAST MING EMPEROR

The old ghost came to my father
Because a dog had told him help,
If anywhere, would be there.
My father was sympathetic
But would die in a few days
Nothing for it but to make the ghost
A rabbi, a Chinese rabbi,
Seeking relief for his flooded province
From Zhu Yujian, the last Ming emperor.
The road was long; the emperor
And the rabbi were dead when they met
The rabbi took his place with the ghosts
My father had sent to make a court
For the emperor's abandoned spirit.

A SECOND POEM ABOUT A GIANT NAKED STATUE OF NAPOLEON

The sea coal fires make London fogs
Thicker, more palpable, than all others
Condensing sometimes into a dog or hippogriff
Or megalosaurus, silently patrolling the streets
Until, for a while, the fog consents to lift.
Tonight, the fog has made a constable
With a tipstaff and an unlit lantern
(Fog has no love for fire and casually extinguishes
Unwary streetlamps that sputter too proudly)
Fog scorns detail but works to a large scale
So the constable is 8 feet tall. Still, he is puny
Compared to the giant nude statue of Napoleon
Who stands in Portland Terrace, looking up
"Mon ami," says the statue, "I break no laws here
Save those of probability and you, I think,
Are not innocent of that either. Just now,
On the world’s other side, the Emperor has died
Of poison, of boredom, of grief. When great men die
In Corsica, the brothers of death come with tapers
And muffled drums, sweeping through the streets
Clearing the way for his passage. It would be ungracious
For the Emperor's soul not to bid Ajaccio farewell

And I believe I will see it flying across the moon's face.
You, my friend, will give benighted drunks nightmares
And then vanish back into the fog that made you.
Dawn will find me in my usual place at Apsley House
Where Wellington will scowl to see again

How calm and regal Canova made me.
Neither of us is here; stand watch with me
Who knows but that the Emperor will notice us
Saluting him amidst his favorite enemies?"

ORIGINS

Elliot Bruce was my mother's dog
When she was growing up. This
Was intended to annoy a neighbor
Who had named her baby Bruce Elliot.
My aunts say animals in their house
All considered themselves my father's.
One day, my father knew that God
Was standing over in the corner
Quietly observing. I imagine my father
May have nodded, but did not presume
To disturb God's thoughts. My mother
Would surely have offered suggestions.
What else is there you might like
To know about me?

THE SECOND DAY

Towards dusk on the second day
About when green turns to black
A dog started from the road
And followed close at my heels
Until dawn when it faded away
Except for its shadow which I saw
Companying me still. My father
Could speak with dogs and they
Would come from distant towns
Seeking his counsel for their woes.

I SAW THIS

A cat-faced man with shepherd’s crook

Stands in the road, defying the snow

His dog, a lolloper, chases flakes

(In America the gods, even if they’re cats,

Have dogs. My father told me the dogs

Were here first. “In the beginning

God went walking with His dog.”)

CAT. ALSO DOG

Although the cat would rather be

Curled up behind the green chair

She stays at the window, too polite

To ignore the world created

Entirely for her.

The dog accepts that cats

Had a paw in the world’s making

Or surely there’d be longer walks

And dogs’ bowls would be filled

More frequently.