Saturday, December 14, 2013

Rough



Rough      

Tearing yourself loose
from a lifelong
pack of lies
—is hard enough.
But at least
you’ve got those
ice-gray eyes,
snapping, pink-foamed
jaws and that
high articulate howling
right behind you—
Each vivid reminder
of lethality helps
legs and lungs,
forcing them on
when you can’t.

It’s the other
side of savagery
that’s more troublesome.

When a whimpering
makes you turn
and in the
grovel of soft
gray fur you
discern nothing more
drastic than yips
and licks, upturned
bare bellies and
squirmy abashed grins,
just a muddle
of big dumb
puppies craving the
rubs you’ve withheld.

That’s when running
suddenly becomes much
more human, more
familiar—and, yes,

much more rough.



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