Like a sailor hauling
men overboard
on decks, he lowers the
latch
on the door of his 8 x 24
cargo container for the
final
shut-in. Deserting
her to that rich valley
between his prison cell
walls. Alone
with the murder, the dog
surveys
the herculean climb to
the bottom of his
potential. Heave,
the sickness ailing him
is more than
merely viral, it’s
virtual; worse than the rhythmic pace of
time.
