Aquiline

A dog tastes first with his nose
And then his victim entrusted
Within his puffy
Cravasse-pawed toes;
Circulatory, damp,
Outer-rain ring gyratory
And then suddenly thrusted
And swiftly transposed,
Years and years ago.
An army marches on its ribs –
Calamitous, our industries.

Do you exist in the marshes
Of my aquiline cerebellum just
Because I, too, do not exist?