I have grown massive and snappish. The backyard’s
greens are not green at all, they’re too vibrant.
They own the potency of theft. They flare.
They could make a little dog disappear,
could soften his barks, smother him with dank
leaves, twine pine boughs round his legs and
carry him down, into the dirt, to join
the others. The dogs down there don’t try
to bark anymore. Their snouts were filled with
earth, then became earth, and now they’re lying
in wait for friends. They too bay shut up, shut
up, what are you yelling about, it’s all fine.
Everyone’s alive. Shouting won’t change a
thing. We’ve discovered this, as earth.