#126 Kevin Brophy 'Yard dog'

#126 Yard dog 

The dog in the yard has plenty of space

to play and run and gnaw on old bones

and leftover shoes. It’s his own place

but all he does is, nose down, patrol alone

the boundary fence, grazing a shoulder

along it, dreaming of it dissolving in a shiver

of light and dust so he might go out where

other dogs have the streets and all that open air

to themselves, out there where the children

who torment him can be nipped or properly bitten.

He’s wearing a thin line in the grass along

the edge of his yard, a soft whining song

escaping from him now as he swings along

clockwise, heading East and ending in the West

where he sees me in the distance moving across

open land on the edge of a paradise that’s endless.