Basil Poem by Selima Hill

A high-pitched woman's voice is shouting Basil!
and then a spotty dog comes whizzing past;

and then a little ball of dried-up seaweed
comes rolling and hopping casually along

with that serenely happy air about it
that Mary's naked bush used to have:

Mary, I can see you now so vividly
doing handstands with no knickers on!

And you used to call your nipples Jane and Rosie,
or Basil and Rosie, I think — one was a boy.

Is that the little dog back again?
It's really hot out here on the dunes.