A Song for the Dogs

All the dogs
are turned toward the door,
jumping
at the sounds the wind makes
shuffling through the trees,
their ears perked up
eyes all staring,
waiting for someone to come through...

A winter that
moves in slow,
incremental steps dialing down each day
until everything is covered in ice,
the sidewalks all cracking
like gunshots out in the night
to ward off all those ghosts hovering in the trees,
those wolves
that circle this house
calling out my name,
begging
needing to be let in....

Wine
that stains my mouth bloody
wraps itself around all my clumsy words
as they're filling the room in violet-hued inflections,
a song for the dogs,
a song for the hunters all waiting for my heart to take flight
like so many thrush taking off all at once
to fill the sky,
that night sky
with a thousand shadows drifting across the moon...

Heart
like a house,
heart like a home I'm standing inside of,
safe
and sane but a coward all the same,
too young to know the difference,
too old for it to matter;
watching
as my skin changes in fine-lined ways,
my tongue full of all the things I've said before
as I say them again and again
to paint a better picture of me...

watching
as cowards circle like wolves
and wolves circle like lovers
and lovers circle the drain,
their calls a mournful, beautiful thing
off in the distance,
growing quieter all the time until, after a while,
all the dogs lose interest and stop staring at the door
to lay back down
and fall asleep on the couch.