the pit bull’s arrival –

when the gate closes, sacrosanct, the

spirits unleash their reckoning, subtle

inclinations

of what was once pure what now

holds our attention

here in the aisles the children

playing in the sands the daisies bent

at the stem, hemp

and twine, black and white, the

vanguard in the rear, the somnolent

soldiers quarantined

for lack of a better remedy; it is here

we cup our hands

prayerful listening to

our elders gathered

in the lodge sweating out our Sins --