Occupy Poetry

My Dog's Breath

BY Todd Temkin

Catfish, what is your secret combination
of herbs and spices?
What delicate mix of lint and tennis ball?
What is the proper perspiration

licked from your genital pores?
Walking down the street
I hear slurping sounds:
a bagel chip, cat shit, a moldy taco shell.

Catfish, I roll over in the night
seeking my wife's neck
and there you are, snorting blissfully into space,
your paws in the air, your mouth open.

Crazy Denizens of the Lost World



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