A Cautionary Tale Of Dogs

They ate Jezebel, skull to femur, sucked

her bones dry as ether. Now, they come

leering at me, skulking like truant children,

smelling the seed and the pimple in my

thigh. The rough black one that lingered

two nights at my window bows down on

haunches that could’ve been elbows,

bearing his teeth like trophies of battle

he slinks closer, growling in his throat, I

stand facing him down as I would face a

hellhound. This black dog, death as his

master, stalking behind just out of view,

I see him from my shower peeping through

the lock, at the foot of my bed he takes

his watch.

He’s there at the church that I never

step into, the old lover’s house I’d

rather watch burn to the ground,

the friend I thought I had for six years

he killed; he licks my face to taste my

sin.