Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #5                         Page 52
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Dog Days

One day you wake up feeling foul
as the moody dog next door,
almost always sweet, but then here it comes
rising to its feet stalking-slow, baring its teeth,
greeting you with a low, razor-wind
blowing from its throat, as you walk
up the porch stairs, lazily saying,
“What’s gotten into you today?”
 
I should say those words to myself,
times when like that dog I’m cross-eyed
and won’t be put off.  Then, my friend’s barking
back at me ‘cause I’m tugging at a frayed sleeve,  
and we go digging up all the buried bones
of things we almost always know not to say.

  Richard Levine