Hunger | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Chronogram Magazine

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Last Updated: 12/03/2014 10:23 am

The dog starves for meat
returns to buried bones
his paws fling dirt and rock
all for that splintered hope

When stomping grounds
are hunting grounds,
he's not sleeping safe
if he's sleeping sound

His wild howl's
in frosted winds
Oh, I know the haunt
but I don't know him

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