Throughout the final winter in Athena,
we seldom missed a visit to the theatre
of Dionysos - on Sundays it was free -
to feed the stray with nine fat puppies
tumbling among the weeds
below the reassembled marble tiers.
Tourists came across them with delighted
cries - So sweet! Such dears! - those future
scavengers of squalid inner-Athens streets,
where roving canine pirate bands,
teeth bared in grins from ear to ear,
greet transients with hopeful equanimity.
Their roly-poly offspring frolicked,
unabashed by history, spared
by the guards' indifference,
or indolence, or pity, admired
by visitors converging eagerly
from far and near, to touch
the stones and conjure up
past festivals and spectacles.
Only we would come prepared
for present-day contingencies,
to seek the care-worn, wary bitch,
bearing scraps of meat.
Theatre of Dionysos
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2005
Свидетельство о публикации №105021300125
Свидетельство о публикации №105021300125
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