God's Dog by Robert Allen

My fingers are curling

like the the legs

of a dog's.

(tell no one)

Daily offered bitter meat from a

dangerous God.

(keep it close tell no one)

I am God's dog,

lying in the sun,

Domestic.

Tearing small holes in the earth with my claws.

(and everyone knows)

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Robert Allen lives and loves in northern California, where he writes poems, takes long walks, and looks at birds.