The last dog in this pound
ain't coming back home.
He's the nephew of the littermate
of a sonofabitch problem child.
Nobody asked to pet him or walk him.
He snarls and and snaps and humps a leg.
He can't come home with you.
he can't go back, he can't stay in between.
Beatings, cages and scratched doors,
puppy mill dog-fight filth on the floors
cloud his eyes, bend his spine, fill him with dread.
His puppy-life was choked out of him.
Bugs in his ears, the mange and fleas
are gone, but the torment lingers.
Beaten in, starved out, forgotten in the dark,
his pain bleeds inward, decaying his wolf soul.
Perhaps you have a wolf soul in the earth
or a crow soul, coyote soul in the desert sun.
Turtle mother soul in the waters and the weeds.
A wild ox soul in the woods.
Lucky you, if nobody kicked you, starved you, knocked you down.
Your turtle soul is patience, your crow soul sees.
Your auroch soul is gentle power.
In red sand under the cedars, follow your soul tracks
and heal.
If you want to jump the tip jar, stomp it like a grape.
Kalliope
Means "beautiful voice" from Greek καλλος (kallos) "beauty" and οψ (ops) "voice". In Greek mythology she was a goddess of epic poetry and eloquence, one of the nine Muses.
Join us every Tuesday afternoon at the Daily Kos community political poetry club.
Your own poetry is always welcome in the comments.
Bongos, berets & turtle neck sweaters optional.
The keyboard is mightier than the sword.
Readers & Book Lovers Series Schedule: