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Husky Dog

Contributed by screwge on Friday, 15th May 2009 @ 09:41:14 PM in AEST
Topic: abstract

I saw my husky dog
blitzed on the couch,
her fur weak and inelegant
in Vaudeville height.

I saw my husky dog
threadbare—yet markedly
enwombed in the filament
of warm pink blankets,

those pink blankets that softly abdicate
the nooks of tchotchkes
and make crooked the pictures of my old huskies
when thrown about for suite.

I saw her sleek and hot,
a corollary to the climate
of some Saharan badland,
and I told her like a human

that I was from Africa and she—
Asia. And that I had the bones to prove it,
I say, and yet her African eyes, which might watch a husky kill a bird,
go lolling in their sockets.

And her paws twitch, as in a terrier who dreams of being husky
and lives a snowflake among the boundless giants.
And my tongue lashes her
for seeming that maned ascetic who

would work at the sled, when I would work in the shoots and
spreads, save
the working children—
who might be in their dog days.

Copyright Â© screwge ... [ 2009-05-15 21:41:14]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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