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.
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