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Christmas Time
Foot of oak and stickerbush is a raccoon
in a cage. Fat man’s hunting, some will say.
Steel plates and
whitefish bait.
They all come calling for the filet laid bare.
Opossum and bobcat. Coon, cat, and hound.
It’s all the same
plastic bagged.
There’s no shame here, but I do feel sorrow
for the nose that tears and bleeds
against the metal.
All the yellow teeth are bared.
She’s backed into a corner. Acrid smell of piss.
I go on and slip the barrel through.
Forty dollars, to me,
is a lot of dough.
And there’s a man I know who won’t mind
a little meat for deed done quick and some
discretion, please.
These bills fold clean.
This was worth
the loss of your cat
Sit with me, here,
with your coffee gone cold
and the cushions piled high.
The warmth is leaching out
of my thighs and reaching
your chill. The moon
is a pain spot needing
the muffle of the oaks, the oysters
ground to powder
and the sand spread to cream
translating: glow,
on the long of the road.
Up comes the babble
clamoring in the saw palms.
Let’s go inside, you say,
but wait, and see
two tails from the brushline.
Let’s be still and see / see the head
go back. / Nimble cry.
The lights going on in the windows.
Far off
the empty moan of a dog.
The clamor rising. I am pressing
into your back. / Break into yips.
They’ll eat all the turtle eggs, you
say.
Every one. And the cats.
I want to dip my face in the yolk
of the turtles. I want / I want
to nip at tabby legs and lie
in a bed of silver moss,
pink tongue curling, licking tall
ears clean,
black lips, rough back.
The god dogs are singing.
Listen, lover,
and
know.
Circus Dogs
The dogs
have made a circus. The dead ones anyway.
There’s
the one who can float
half-sunk in a circle,
and the
one who can escape
the
grocery store dumpster
though he be bound mightily
by leather leash
and a bicycle chain.
Screw
your eyes
here:
This
bitch has collapsible ribs
and an
iron belly / for a nickel
you can
kick her as hard as you’d like
run her
beneath your car / But wait!
This
vanished litter
disappeared into the river
will
reappear one
and all
/ made new
as if by
charm
from the
oyster sack.
And this
one here will deflate himself
at will
before
he skims
skins /
slips
beneath
the storm drain.
Maybe
even your drain.
Come on,
have your fill too.
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