Porumda!
That dog, all leaking sores,
all stinking fur, bone thin
and starving for
one taste of
his Master, one lick
of pure love,
was pushed and shoved
out of His orbit
time and again,
but ardor and passion
to touch the divine
is heard in the highest
reaches of heaven,
so that communion,
perfect, sublime
is granted to
the innocent,
regardless of looks
and so that wild animal’s
lust was received
by the flesh of Rama
one secret midnight,
when one tongue could
trawl the juicy map
of his God, from hair tip
to foot, and one dripping
sage could pick himself
up, sparkling with dog love
and light, so one holy
wish now satisfied,
our dog could lie down
in great peace,
in gratitude, and die.