Tuesday, 14 June 2011


The mongrel is chained up outside of
the house and snarls with teeth
and eyes and hate and fear.
I keep my bare feet well clear of him
For a moment,
I wonder what he is fed

And I've made the purchase
poked through ripped holed
fly-screen door
And I walk back past the beast of teeth
cautious in my bare feet
Aware of the chain tightening

This dog does not go for walks
This is what he knows
I can feel electric savagery
I imagine him going for throat
As I walk past the burnt out commodore,
dodging broken glass
.. I wonder what his name is
I hope the weed is good

Out of the driveway and onto the street
I pat my pocket
And I hope the weed is good.
Pretty soon the barking stops
I forget about the dog

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