December 22, 2010

Dog Poem Revision

Now I’ve totally rewritten the second half of this little dog poem and I’m happier with it.

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My Black Dog

 

My black dog grips

A lamb shank-bone

Between white-tufted paws.

With his back fangs,

Tongue dangling down

Narcotically, he gnaws,

 

And watches me

Without seeing,

His condensed feeling

In those working jaws.

With frightful cracks

And crunching, splintered

Shards he swallows

To my slight alarm,

And yet I watch him

With satisfaction.

He suffers no harm.

 

I don’t intrude

My knuckled thumbs;

Interrupting

Would be rude.

 

When I wake mid-night,

Walk into my childless rooms

Alone, stung with pangs

Of worry on my sofa

For the world,

He stirs himself

And follows like

A good-luck charm.

He plops down

Near my bare feet

On the cold floor

And begins snoring like a saw.

 

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