One Black Dog

It disgusts me to the very den of my inner barren stomach Rising on haunches like a broken ballerina Fat pregnancy with clotted matted fur along the under quarters It snarls in vapid plagiarisms and turns its neck like clockwork Half of a dog and half of a bear Dragging part-lingering its wasteful stumps Like jungle monsters, it walked fat on its claws Curled underneath and imbedded in the pads With my wide eyes and my tiny mouth carved I half-life curdle and shrink into my neighbouring trees Awaiting the coated procrastination of winters When I shall freeze within my flesh tomb and the Beast shall be gone, sleeping with blood about those Weathered obese blocks and a mouth frozen to the central nerves A metro tunnel falling down the Devil throat and cut at the cord One black dog in a woodland ashen day Falling grey thunders under heavy black God And the rampant inadequecies of flame and pitchfork As those villagers rise upon their haunches On this, the gut-cutting nausea of the blackest of black dog days.