Written November 2011
Walking the Dog on a Winter Morning
The stone gray quilt hoodie protects my soft flesh from daybreak's stinging wind.
All but my frost numb hands, which shred raw in the constricting leash grooves.
Snapping teeth refract the snow bright morning's sterile sun.
A dissimulate cool jerk restrains the combat bred and ready fangs.
The icy stream of bodies flow around my petrous veneer.
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