Hounded

I have one hun­dred dogs
One hun­dred dogs and
Twenty-five pieces of meat
And no leashes
I am doing the equa­tion
Mak­ing the math work in my head
Simplistic sums are the sum
Of all I learnt in school, by rote

One car­cass between four dogs
Is never going to feed
Their empty bel­lies
Or their slav­er­ing mouths
It’s never going to fill
Their echo­ing rib­cages
Or silence their barks
And their after mid­night howls

Throw us a bone, they’re say­ing
Throw us a bone, they’re plead­ing
Throw us, tear us just one fuck­ing bone
Leave the sinews dangling
For all we fuck­ing care; all we are
All we ever wanted to be
Was the mon­grel cur, cursed
And cower­ing under the din­ing table

Our eyes are big­ger than
Your dried-up hol­lows
Our moist tongues make
Your sexual appet­ite seem arid
Our legs buckle and scrape
Barely able to lift up and carry
These mal­nour­ished frames
Of once lithe can­ine forms

Kill the dogs before dawn
Kill them before dawn, you heard
For I know I can feed them
And I know I can love
Their pathetic, doe-eyed stares
But I’ll never provide
The warm bed they desire
Or free­dom from the catcher’s rope

This isn’t heart­less cruelty
This is cold and clin­ical
Be prac­tical, be prac­tical
Please God, if you’re there
Be mer­ci­ful and prac­tical
You’ve bolts of light­ning to spare
Yet why waste those when
A single breath will topple them?

But God — God’s not here, not there
And he was never every­where
He’s off teach­ing the rare breeds
How to per­form charm­ing tricks
To beg for more, retrieve
Run and pick up sticks
And do as they’re told, behave
Sit and stay and down and out

Which leaves the hounds
With blood in their mouths
With the fresh stench of flesh
Gath­er­ing in their spittle
One hun­dred dogs
One hun­dred dogs and
Twenty-five pieces of meat
And no leashes

• Ori­gin­ally pub­lished as audio on PIFFLE: 20.02.09