Last night
I heard a dog
in the valley
puncturing the hills
with a sound
from a long
time ago.
It was the sound
of a man and woman
falling out of love,
the sound of a century
caught in the dark —
barking, barking.
A deep-throated howl
made under stars,
made against death,
insisting there are drums
underground,
cymbals in the cloud,
a music that goes on an on
because someone
somewhere
is listening.
