t h e  d o g

 

Eats embers as they’re spat 

from the fire and other creatures

bind crooked shapes into a mass,

intractable as a sorely laid hedge

their chants burst like cough 

are wracked with broken lung

are vulnerable when viewed

in the canopy of smoke. The pool

of muddy water holding oil black

in the dark, and the dog eats embers 

as they’re spat from the fire. Chews them

into sparks. Breathes them down its throat.