Black Dog
The black crows are on the high tree again.
Squat and scabbed
Limned against the light
Tricksters
Old man coyote howls against the moon!
My black dogs answer back
They huddle on my bed
And know what’s not
To give tongue to.
My ears are numb
To find silence
You will have to gentle her
Warm her in the heart of silence
And gentle her
Love her in the heart of silence
And gentle her
And in the heart of silence
Know which deaths tales lie
And which do not!
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