Meera

16

Quiet, the dog’s dreaming
__on the porch, glazed gold, lapsing in an idle breeze
__his old legs quiver silently, a phantom run, lifting his greying muzzle, a half-snarl
__the hazy, tuneless afternoon floating through a picnic-colored sky above,
__dripping by like lemonade, gone lukewarm in drowsy summer warmth
__and he dreams, sinks into his rustling thoughts
What’s he hunting, do you think?
__a vague memory—flash of forest, dusky thrill
__full, burning, churning adrenaline circling small pupils
__crouched beneath wordless bushes, black muzzle
__in a silent snarl, ears plastered down
__the prey flitting, depthless
Some very slow squirrels, probably
__beneath an arcane canopy, clapping, violent clouds
__a thick, coiled pounce, shifting of muscle,
__moments paralyzed, skinless hunger
__teeth
__the flood, bloody crush
Maybe a bird with clipped wings?
__--the laughter wakes him coldly, heart still
__thudding, now emptily, a forgotten metronome
__clouded eyes, muddy pools, he wonders vaguely
__ugly flies tickle his ears
__slow, snapping jaws, he cannot catch them
Oh look, he woke up. Did you have a nice hunt?
__his family laughs again, calm static, thoughtless
__standing, he shakes himself, shedding flakes of sleep
__phantom hunger, spying a bird, thin beak, pecking at the earth
__a vague memory thickens, pushes his steps, he aches
__tired crouch, unsure, thin muscles stretch
Silly dog, you’re too old to catch a real bird
__a shuddering giggle, the bird scatters by
__shrieks at him, mocking, splash of feathers
__the blue, glazed sky, playful sun, forgetting
__he feels empty, drowsy
__maybe another nap, then
Silly dog