Often,
in darkness, he
sends his dogs
to dig, to jail,
or to crop, and
until they return,
muzzles coated
with mud and worse,
he threads
his needle
with the guts
of freedom.
Headed uphill,
he believes he is
given to empathy.
He nods to
the left
a motion he wants
to make, but he insists,
they
may not skip
the vows
of trust and loyalty.
In darkness, now, he
aims
his twisted dream
at certain angels
of our better nature,
and tightens
his finger.
(c) 2017, by Hannah Six
Original Image: Benjamin Applebaum
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