Ennui Poem by Ananta Madhavan

I knew on Friday night, at seven,
That Ennui was a Hound of Heaven.
I fled him down the drawing room
Where brittle laughter sounded doom.
I dodged him with the transistor,
But heard him bay, 'The troops haven't yet..'
He chased me through the frantic pages,
All through supper, and by stages
Relentlessly he drove me to crime:
I stifled a yawn and then killed time.


How should I picture you, my faithful Hound?
Perhaps in points of paint or trills of sound.
On Saturday afternoon, at three,
I felt like a picture by Paul Klee.