Let us be dogs, lie around like dogs, pant, drool and hump like mutts,
for the dog days are here and honey, there is nothing else to do.
The summer storm that blasted through like a psycho-killer
named Jeb Wayne Lee or Jeb Lee Wayne has left us without power
and air conditioning and ceiling fans, has melted the coffee ice cream,
and the beer is getting warm. Let us lap it up like dogs.
Let us comfort our dogs, who whined, who whimpered and cowered in fear
as Jeb Lee Storm pulverized trees and flashed and roared because,
well, no one knows, not the weatherman babbling
about super cells and cloud-to-ground but who can never explain
violence, why it exists, how it bares its teeth like a dog.
Let us lift our legs on science. Let us snap and snarl
in boredom on this simmering day and woof when the other speaks
humorously. Darling, you can sniff me anywhere,
it's perfectly fine, why not, the TV is out and the stereo too
and both PCs, oh honey, let us do as they knew to do
when our ancestors grunted and dropped from trees
and barbecued dinosaurs. I can almost remember the darkness,
what roamed its edge and howled.
Mark Jackley is the author of several chapbooks, most recently Every Green Word (Finishing Line Press), and a full-length collection, There Will Be Silence While You Wait (Plain View Press). His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Rougarou, Sugar House Review, Pebble Lake Review, Tirage Monthly, Body and other journals. He lives in Sterling, VA.