Dog is a political animal
each organ,
each act, functions
with a purpose.
Slogans of teeth or tail.
Her note pad scribbles
leave out all those smiling dogism.
tales of love and debt.
and marks out one in violet, and later red,
named sniffing.
she has had dogs,
from Sniffy to Snoopy
but, none were more, a dog
than a man, she met
in a moving train.
This animal,
sniffs you out
from ur morning bed,
office desk and evening calm
drinks your coffee for your black
that may lead you down, stairs of dope.
It licks, cuddles
hugs , and even pierce you neck
as it sniffs, for
semen of men.
The holy river,
dosent make you a male God
in white dust.
It part ways, along your valleys
of mounts and dungeons
as you too, slip out
of your skin
with an ancient curse.
Even though she was sleeping,
a baby sleep, as he sniffed.
She would get up and scream,
"Infidelty is my birthright."
and then,
once again.
She would call him,
a dog.


Damyanti said…
The holy river,
doesn't make you a male God
in white dust.

I like these lines, and the staccato beat of the poem.
aravind said…
Awesome, drives home the point :)..
jayanEvoor said…
a sniffing dog on a moving train...

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