Blackout, the sullen moon,
The appetite to swallow flesh,
The divots torn of broken claws, and sweat
That glistens in the gloom
Like light that follows death.
No territory lies unmarked:
Just unrepentant howls and scents
That pull back memories of who
Survived. The crackling underbrush
And overgrowth and aftershocks —
There’s only stimuli and rigor
Mortis, praying mantis of
The dogs, you venus
Flytrap of the dogs
Coyotes Ate My Thursday
