i.
I say in earnest green –
the lake near the pine-lined cliff,
the hills on the horizon,
lingering in the browning grass.
Today the blue is weak
interrupted by clouds
with dark underbellies,
dogs that dug to find coolness in the dirt.
The girls here are green,
my lust is green but stained.
The boats are white and blue
and somehow old.
The day folds into a deep green night.
ii.
A chicken-scratcher
barks and bites.
It's a dog day for sure,
for dogfish swishing through
the cold and deep. For hounds
drooping in the maple shade.
I gnaw the bone of this blanched
afternoon.
iii.
The cat slept through winter.
This season the dog sleeps,
awaking now and then to pant
and cower under the alpha sun.
iv.
We, children of the dog star,
toss and turn through the flea-bitten night.
v.
Night sounds,
the yelping of a wild pack
chasing down its prey,
my sleepless dream.
Sweat condenses from the air –
salt encrusts the pillows,
now hard as stones.
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