Mongrel Death Blues
What's that behind my back? What's that gnawing behind my back? It sounds like a dog crunching bones for marrow. Bones here so old, the sun's dried up the marrow. What kind of dog splinters bone like that? Don't turn around, I hear it getting louder. Don't turn, don't turn, its growl is getting louder. Oh, don't you growl at me, nappy rabid dog. My joints may be cracking, but my bones ain't buried yet. I said, my skeleton is talking, but my bones ain't buried yet. Hear my belly growling? I'm hungrier than I've ever been. Are you baring pearly whites? I can almost smell your mongrel breath. Yes, your pearlies, they are snapping, and I can smell your stinking breath. I'd turn around and pet you, but I've given up on pets. I am reaching for a stone. I swear my aim is sharp. I swear my arm is strong. It's growing dark, but I won't miss. It's darker now, but I won't miss. O shine down moonlight, my whole life has led to this.
From The World's Room by Joshua Weiner, published by the University of Chicago Press. Copyright © 2001 by Joshua Weiner. Reprinted by permission of the author. All rights reserved.