We drove to Bradford to pick her up.

Madame showed us the parlour,
with its high red marble mantelpiece,
where the sisters danced their cage
in monochrome bodies.

Released,
they shot past us:
torpedoes in silk stockings
nipping each other’s backs.

You chose her
because she had the daintiest
daisy face
and neat black ears.

She stumbled over us
in the car on the way home
and her face grew on me
like a white velvet slipper

with grey pearl-button eyes.
When the children have gone to bed
your Bull Terrier piglet
snuffles us for a nibble

and I praise my
generosity
for allowing this other
Lady in the house.