Wednesday, March 03, 2010

Hound Sight

Loved by the sly
four-legged female,
would-be wife to a dog,
later mother to his sorry litter.

Nights, my wounds are licked
and they flare open. Her poison,
saliva and the salted Marina air,
burns right through to the bone.

Her family, the hungry pack of
wolves in a concrete jungle;
chase for my blood,
my legs saved me that night.

And this day, she
came home with love,
and left with a pound in her mouth,
severed right from my chest.

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