Friday, March 15, 2013

-bestiary -

on the rug, the new dog
raised its empty head
and squatting hollow-eyed
in the strain of its circumstance
looked like a meditator
of the spiritual world—

like the Pope at the first
crack of pistol fire—

like Benito nodding pompously
cross-armed upon his balcony—

like ditzy Bernadette kneeling
at the foot of her burning bush—

like the passive wildebeest
trapped in the jaws
clamped at its throat
on the great savanna 
a moment before

I whacked it on the head
with a rolled-up National
Geographic.







                   
                             















                                                

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