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Sport 40: 2012
to the kreisau dogs
to the kreisau dogs
o the shabby raggle-taggle of village dogs: stub
tails stumpy legs mongrel muzzle at the hedge
yours is the street the dust on the asphalt edge
yours the night resounding in the valley asleep
every echo belongs to you: the flickering kick-
back of din in the hills a hierarchical snarling
a barking and baying: first Herculean then mam-
moth & abating just a chicken to tip you the wink:
whoever can’t perform to order deliver the drivel is
picked off by the pack in wildfire throats the dump
is lost so cry murder etc. survey the world in this
trough master the pathways the people and me—
yours is my scent track my undaunted adventures
yours my calves out of this shit-hole at last