Door’s Ajar

I’m not fighting with the dog for the right
to come in from the cold – he doesn’t see
it like that either; his view inside the door
is of Society that’s his too, as a right, not
of a privilege I’m deemed to bequeath – it
may be a moot point for She Who Rules
Really; he ably plays her refrain with the
panache born of no locks or restraints

When She’s away the Glass Throne’s mine
to keep; he plays Simpleton for me, adroit
to the letter, an adept with more ways to
please than eye masquerades; but it’s a
feint placed in furtive trust by deceitfully
checking which, if any, door’s ajar
© 8 January 2013, I. D. Carswell