Construction Literary Magazine

Summer 2017

Milk Bone

Milk Bone
Photograph via Flickr by Philip Bump

While we are asleep the dog
dreams of lost relatives.

Fur bullet
in a corn-glazed meadow,

fairy pulse,
mouth raining hydrangeas.

His mother sniffs his anus, lifts
him by the scruff like God.

In dreams, his slick
nose quivers. Legs move

for a fat mouse to sink teeth in.

He knows the world by its hedges:
stone wall, swimming pool,
sag in a voice. A gesture’s weight.

Chew your milk bone. Hide it safe,
where no one will cleave it
from your mouth.