The donkey obsessed with hats rooted
himself to the pavement outside Vignoles,
the town milliner, who had adopted
the grape variety name as a nom de
plume in recognition off all the wine
-coloured feathers he had imported
from an Oceanic speck noted for its birds
of paradise. The donkey had no particular
interest in feathers, although he welcomed
now and again pigeons alighting on his brow
or between his ears, assuming the role of headcover.
Once, when his turfcart was unloaded
of its haul outside McCooney’s Bar
he raced to the town’s outskirts, past
the sign saying Welcome to Ballycarraig,
onto Jack Kerr’s turnip field, dragging
the cart behind as he galloped, ploughing
up the newly broadcast seed with hoof
gashes and wheel ruts, all to reach the scare
-crow at the field’s centre, or rather, to grab
with a backlegs-powered leap, the hat of straw
atop the crown of the man of straw, he of faded
70’s fashion cast-offs. Previously, the donkey
had been owned by a big-city street performer
who had trained him to climb a step ladder,
to balance on his hind hoofs, with a rugby
ball atop his muzzle, held in place by the nimble
manoeuvrings of his tongue. The donkey knew
the ball was not a hat, but still took note of the smiles
and laughing, the claps and yelling a foreign object
on his head provoked. There was many the goat
trained to do this trick, but he had been the only donkey.
____________
Patrick Cotter’s poems have appeared in the Financial Times, London Review of Books, Poetry, Poetry Review and elsewhere. Sonic White Poise, his third collection appeared from Dedalus (Dublin) in 2021. More at www.patrickcotter.ie