On a Leash
Rimbaud remarked, “Dogs are liberals,” to
Gastineau, the Mautés’ loving dog.
A “doll-faced” time bomb ticked away with blue,
Blue eyes, light blue and deep, until the fog
Of future London filled that Paris home.
He was an Ostrogothic army in
The streets, the Vandals in the rues of Rome,
An islamist’s device of bolts and sin.
He started off by breaking bric-a-brac,
And hacking at a Jesus Christ, pale God
Of ivory, ending up with total sack
Of marriage. He rode everyone roughshod
And then when he retreated from the fray,
He took his man, the husband, far away.