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The Dogs Out there on the streets, half a world away, Hounds of despair abound in the split screens, Baying like the cries of mobile phones, Among flak jackets and gasmasks and crying children, Dropping on to our consciousness like shards of green light breaking the silence and comfort, their well meaning owners maintaining altruism and telling us that that is just the way it is. Barking at the moon, its nature’s way you see, how they show us their canines, with their tail erect Listening for distant disturbances that can’t be seen on radar. But when they attack, when they grip, tearing and turning, growling and gawping, Not knowing when to stop, their jaws clenched, Not knowing how much blood they have spilled. It was inevitable you see. |
Additional Notes:
In Baghdad, the dogs in the street were more sensitive to the distant approach of missiles than radar.
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