It wants the dog, the whole dog
and isn’t content with merely pocking hocks
or gnawing paws and withers. Even the finest pair
of tweezers fail to pluck it from a hair
once it’s dropped down and popped its tusks
inside the hide to loot the blood around the roots—
all puckered up and puffed on spirits.
O how it cheers its supernatural soul to scratch its
itch on the back of a bitch, flee and haunt
a different haunch before the villagers agree to fight
back against the mite and stake him by the collar.
