A Black Dog At My Feet

There’s a black dog that’s found me
 comes, occasionally
Lays its weight on me
 paws and scratches my skin
Not enough to make me bleed
 just enough to make a mark
Takes hold of my hand in its mouth
and presses
Not enough to make me bleed
 just enough to make a mark

And it remains
 sapping my strength
  and dyeing its fur
Which it sheds away
 in clumps to the floor

Well like Týr
 while it grasps my hand
  I’ve taken a muzzle
   and put my own Gleipnir to this Fenrir
Lashed leash around its throat
 and ordered to “drop it”
Though it takes a few times
 past cracked, quiet voices
  drowned by its growls
   unwilling to give up what it thinks is its
I’ve gently wiggled myself free

When this dog comes, restless
 and gnashing for me to soothe it
  I give it what it needs
A walk
 good food fed from my plate
  maybe a new game to learn
Dig a hole together in the morning
 and fill it in in the evening

It won’t stop it coming
 as it yearns for something in me
And something in me
 is a silent whistle to my ears
  that I thought had stopped long ago
   yet that dog still hears uninterrupted

But at least
 with how I’ve trained it
trained me
at least now it sleeps on my feet