the poet and the dog

inside the theatre, a single bulb

swaying like a bored hypnotist

casts its light on the stage

 

a crumpled page in her fist

she raises it like a preacher

and begins to speak

 

"when the door clicks shut,

it is a guillotine of silence."

 

her voice scrapes the rafters,

spits into the dark,

but it is not just her voice

beside her, ribs sharp as sorrow,

a dog

a cracked-moon mutt with eyes

that know every locked door

throws his head back and howls

a duet for the forgotten,

 

for every shadow

that waited at the gate

but was never met

 

the howl folds into words,

the words become the howl

the walls close in

 

and the night cries out

in loneliness

 

 

Done