A dog died in the street tonight,
A dog with no name, a common cur,
Its eyes a glassy window to nothingness,
Its carcass lain bare to all heavens above.
The man in the room beside still beats his wife,
The owner of the grocery kept fixing his rice,
The children numerous still stomped on ant lines,
The woman on the corner kept selling her body to the night.
There was no gathering of dogs in mourning,
No funeral, no tears, no fond remembrance,
Still the rotting flesh gave incense to the scene,
Maybe a dog’s God is indifferent or maybe there were no God’s dogs.
The bone for which it ran lay ahead,
The delight for which its mouth had foamed,
For a moment after eternity it had felt its nerves on fire,
Before being snuffed like a flame from a candle’s wicker.
Days went by, crows rejoiced,
Their stomachs full from the degenerate’s demise,
Having plucked the juicy meat from its skeleton,
Leaving no memory of the dog that died.
Now only bones remain, along with the bone that was,
And another dog now runs, its mouth salivating for its tasty cause.
eccentricanomaly 