He is coming in behind her. Could be,
she is leading him; or was sent forward.
Certainly, she is doing the stuff. Smiling.
He, however, is not happy at all.
The head is tilted with harsh aggression,
pulled back and up, pointing the jaws, a dog
fully considering attack: he glares
and he assesses, overtones mixing.
If there is a ground note, it is large fear
of losing what he does not own but rules,
the landowner assessing by sight the strength
of his rebellious peasantry, wondering
how long it will take the constabulary
to arrive from town. He senses trouble
for his place in the form of one he knows
with some half-remembered apprehension.
What the hell are you doing here? ask eyes
obsessed by other people and themselves.
He is scared of everything that is not him.
-----
Lawrence Upton
Visiting Fellow, Music Dept,
Goldsmiths, University of London
New Cross, London SE14 6NW
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