Poetry / Poets

Dog Days by Mark Jackley

Let us be dogs, lie around like dogs, pant, drool and hump like mutts,
for the dog days are here and honey, there is nothing else to do.

The summer storm that blasted through like a psycho-killer
named Jeb Wayne Lee or Jeb Lee Wayne has left us without power

and air conditioning and ceiling fans, has melted the coffee ice cream,
and the beer is getting warm. Let us lap it up like dogs.

Let us comfort our dogs, who whined, who whimpered and cowered in fear
as Jeb Lee Storm pulverized trees and flashed and roared because,

well, no one knows, not the weatherman babbling
about super cells and cloud-to-ground but who can never explain

violence, why it exists, how it bares its teeth like a dog.
Let us lift our legs on science. Let us snap and snarl

in boredom on this simmering day and woof when the other speaks
humorously. Darling, you can sniff me anywhere,

it’s perfectly fine, why not, the TV is out and the stereo too
and both PCs, oh honey, let us do as they knew to do

when our ancestors grunted and dropped from trees
and barbecued dinosaurs.  I can almost remember the darkness,

what roamed its edge and howled.

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