2024-01-04

poetry/h/hotdog.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,23 @@
+hotdog
+2022-06-05
+
+***
+
+Your fur a tawny brown sheen
+seen once in a feverish dream
+when into a sleeping chamber cluster I broke
+and screamed until up you woke.
+
+Lovers shouldn't be sliced into shreds,
+pressed between display glass, vivisection.
+Run away, love. Go feral if you must
+until you're safe and the hours of dawn turn to dust.
+
+I'll bandage the tip of your nose as the birds make a stink
+in the trees. I'll dye one of my father's dogs pink,
+line them and you up in a row, break out the defluffing brush,
+make neapolitan ice cream of shedded fur for their nests.
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander