Garage Archaeology - 1

 

Just finished going through the boxes that got moved from the old house to this place four years ago. Much of it was taken straight from the storage sheds, without being opened. For very good reasons I had to check every box, and found some things I'd been searching for for years - sometimes decades.

The above sketch is of my two Pekes, Smudge and the Eternally Beautiful Kismet. With it I found the poem I wrote about Kismet - who is the model for Buttercreme in the Hollywood books. I know it's sort of conceited to post your own poetry on a website, but this is for her.

FERAL IN HER DREAMS

Queen-bitch of the hunting-pack, she leaps,

The elk in terror scattering –

In vain the flight of the biggest buck

Through rock and wood and stream.

He shall not lose her, huntress of the steppe:

Gold fur rippling, brown eyes gleaming

red in the swollen light of the amber moon.

 

She bays, and the pack bays with her.

She runs, and the pack streams after.

But hers the greater speed, the springing jump,

and hers the kill,

and the howl of triumph after,

Bloodied muzzle lifted to the stars—

 

And I watch her sleep on her pillow

While the fire’s flickering warms her,

And her short legs twitch with memories

of pursuits three thousand years gone.

Sunk deep in darkness the blood-chase.

Shrill growls echo the hunting-cries

in a throat where rhinestones twinkle

through oceans of well-brushed fur.

 

Only with sleep’s unlocking

Does she know her ancient destiny:

Six pounds of silky courage,

And feral in her dreams.


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