Thursday, March 29, 2012

In the hour of dogs

in the hour of dogs
every human voice
is hushed 

night is our scavenge 
us and the watchboots
no stranger dares

we prowl as kings
we are the claws and noses
we are the grip

that stalks on stiff legs
rotting ribs and vertebrae
and hostile ankles

the steam of our piss
rises past the towers
and dims stars

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