DOGMA

Michael McNeilley


the dogs run
up the sides of mountains
tongues hanging low
some with noses full
of porcupine quills
some with clinging pups
some matted and mangy
and scarred and broken
some dragging their
fallen brothers and sisters
daughters and sons
some with pieces missing
tattered ears bobbed tails
some large and rangy
some tiny, weak and slow
some strain to pull trees
bicycle racks and park benches
some lope freely smiling like fools
the dogs run
up mountainsides
and those who reach the top
float off into the sky
panting out clouds
howling down the wind
barking up the moon
Copyright CrossConnect, Inc. 1996

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