The Namer

The Namer

First is the owl that manages a half-hoot
before your voice unravels into its ears.
I've not seen it off your shoulder since.
Dogs, too: strays whose names I can only guess
you know from past meetings.

Then the tricks start: a flurry
of albino mice streaming from the floorboards
of my bedroom.
..............................It's easy, you divulge
to me one night, driving on the M4
with a herd of sheep at your bumper
silent, staring. It's easy to find
the right name for anything,

and animate me for a whole day
to perform entirely speakable acts.
This proves it.

You walk across the Thames and name
the winds for me, and the murk until
we are both stood on it and I do not sink.

We re-enact the Pied Piper regularly
with the local comprehensives. Rats and kids
are easily confused. We lost one last time.

You tell me not to worry
about pronunciation, grammar: any utterance
will do. There's a skeleton

on your shoulder, a smallish one
floating in the pond. You teach me new names
all the time. I wish you'd stop.