they bark like
they mean it.
not that fake bark
you get from
pampered purse mutts.
this is real.
chest-deep.
born from wolf blood.
someone rattles the gate
and they’re up
like hell just called
their name.
one inside,
one out,
trading thunder
through drywall
and windowpanes.
they don’t know
if it’s a leaf
or the apocalypse;
either way,
they are ready.
and goddamn
if that doesn’t
make me feel
like i matter.
like someone
is aware
that i am in this,
maybe worth protecting.
you can keep
your doorbells
and security cams.
i got a pair of alarms
that eat peanut butter
and sleep in a pile
when the threat
is gone.
and i like
their noise.
their warning.
their love
loud.
