Sunday, April 28, 2013

Dog Bite

I paid off my hospital bills from the overdose
And then I got myself bit by a dog.
I tell this story among friends with a punchline:
I thought it would be fun to play naked fetch
In the fenced-in backyard on a sunny spring morning
And when the paramedics arrived I was still naked
And of course they were good looking, rim-shot, laughter.

Funny, yes, but I still hear the screeching of
The jealous fight, two beloved dogs
Rolling toward me almost cartoonishly
Gnashing at one anothers’ jugulars, pulling me
Into the swell of fur and saliva when I tried to wrench them apart.

I still see the crazed eyes and heavy teeth that missed
My jugular but left a crack in my wrist and craters
On my arms before I managed to close them
In separate rooms. I still see the paramedics follow
The trail of blood and fur to find me and the truth is
That this tale has a moral, not a punchline:
Anything can be used as a weapon
When I am angry enough with myself. 

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