Porumda

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.