Losing Angles

Tenacious little devil, eye
level to the world’s approximate lower third—
O every greeting deserves a response       Damn
the impulse!  Misdirected power, growl grows
from softness   Gleam of alabaster teeth       Jaw backed
by a tawny satchel, fur sleek over sinewy muscle   Surprise
the nitro speed at which it comes on     Lolling whistle
tongue explodes the hour into second-shards,
porcupine’s defense    Blood never bursts cartoonish
What should be feared, what should be sniffed-out
Failure to differ sleeps child-like within the skull
Not everything loves a child: it’ll bury the life
before it     The urge to pouch a small thing
to the front of the body, to slip a note into a shirt
pocket, first loosen the starch seal   Everyone here
wants to replicate themselves—canine the exception
Waiting, we mimic the inanimate     I’ll quit pleading
for a slower pace       Dogs don’t know manners,
they know space      I’ll shake the seizing interruption
into stillness    Every block I’m sorry    I regret,
I’m glowing with knowledge