Who Are You?

Who am I, if a dog or in China?

The slurred wonder beneath the shadow
And Chairman Mao can take a cold dip
In the cultural revolution along the Yangtze River.
The assignment of Docklands crates cranes over, shrivels
Into a dog foetus, split in two
After the premier vapid heartbeat
Then sewn up with thin surgical thread.
A mongrel searches the stones for a newspaper
And responds to piped Amy Whitehouse
At his master’s flat realising the singer has forgotten
Her voice is heard by embryos in cushioned wombs
Before lines of cocaine are wasted in bins
Where a thrush cracks a snail along a spiral.
A velvet eared mutt readies for a new track.