Hungry Dogs

She walks across the room

To touch the thing

From her dream.

It does not melt or hide or

Expand to the expected size;

It remains attainable,

Too easily seduced -

In her opinion.

She does not know

How to be angry any more.

Now the days are criss-crossed

With strangers and windows

And unyielding objects

That hold no sentimental value.

Pig tastes good, and she wonders

Where the blood has gone.

While the rest are fighting,

Bursting to be heard, their voices sharp,

She will show you

A charming thing, a ribbon

She is afraid to cut.

See its line, see it cut

The horizon that lies

Intact beyond her shadow.

Night comes

And she lies down

To the sound of dogs.

In the back seat. Lights flash by,

Serene, meaningless, spontaneous.

But wait!

For the howl that sits least easily

Within a chest that daren't forget

The Good Samaritan.

He bleeds openly,

Waiting for his reward

From God or Hungry Dogs.