A much queerer night than I’d thought, if a
dog ‘harrumphs’ ceaselessly, it’s bought a
defective moon or something’s got its goat.
noted no choral neighbourhood riposte and
that supposed something weird afloat.
snorts out in the dead of night - not straying
too far, but vociferously policing his domain
a thing; usually it is they who’ll call the tune
while Podge regales loudly back at them
faintly heard strains of the eerie dingo wails
sorrowed this moonless night
assured for any who eat those lures - pain
and agony preceding excruciating death
how to abstain from applause; seemed to
me they always respond indiscriminately
own bark, and when cautioned to hold their
yap are spurred to ‘arf’ even louder.
tribe knew - demurred from raging aloud in
a mordant night of their cousin’s demise
© 3 April 2014, I. D. Carswell