Two White Dogs
By Billy Jackson
Lugnut and Old Boy bark at a four point buck
eating fermented apples
under a gnarled old tree
They bark at joggers
fit and annoyed
at the intrusion into their ritual
Their shift starts before mine
Before I leave
And ends after mine
Before I sleep
They howl at the sirens
of police and firemen
heralds of needed help
And they greet the delivery
people so that they know
they may not stay long
They ward off the wild things
the raccoons and opossum
and yell at the uncaring ravens to begone
And the Coyote's call
the yammering yelps
sing a song of battle in Lugnut's heart
so he paces back and forth and whines – “Let me at em!”
Then in the evening
they come inside, fences secure
treats and headrubs and wrasslin
Until we all sleep
Old Boy on the couch, sprawled out and
Lugnut next to our bed, childishly close and wary as Cerberus
A response to the National Poetry Month prompt