Mongrel Choir Practice

Fisk - the big, black and white hound dog
Sounds the alarum bells in the dark.

Not the everyday bark
alerting his unsuspecting masters
to the arrival of the mail,
or the departing of the refuse container.

No, this is full out braying
conjured from deep inside
his big puppy dog belly.

Cymbals crashing in my ear
would not reverberate more terror
through my limbs
at 3:02 in the a.m.

Fisk, the big, black and white hound dog.
Hopping buoyantly at the window,
waiting not so patiently-
for food, attention, vengeance
for trespassers unknown and unseen.

All a prelude to his post-midnight
mongrel choir practice.

This poem was written in class in response to Billy Collins' poem "A Dog on His Master". I love the way Collins' writes from the perspective of the sentient dog who realizes he is aging faster than his master and will one day no longer be the younger of the two. The simple, yet profound way Collins plays with the dynamic of time and age is wonderfully weaved into his poem. 

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