High noon. Kalu strolls in,
Rolls his amber eye. 
A city clay sheaths him in a 
Grey hoodie over the bear-black
Of his coat, spotless spangle-front,
Touch of lime on the toes.

Half stray, half pet, part rescue
All pie, with collar, no leash
Regular meals, hound unbound
Who scatters and sieves a kilo
Of baked and powdered sod
All over the floors.

Who prefers to take his siesta
Indoors, who snores as we surf
An ocean of animal videos, creatures 
Cornered in sinks and tubs, being
Given their baffs, or worse.
A persian, a golden retriever, even

A chimp who takes his chuddee off
Before stepping into the shower
A petflix of obedience, OCD, love
And power. For Kalu, so much to 
Ignore, as he shrugs on a muslin of 
Dust, a buddha who streams

Dreams. Of monkeys, mostly, 
For they be doggone dreams
In which the wolf must be honed
The marrow de-boned and splinters
Of PVC swallowed. Crust of cowpat, 
Squirrel flat as an insole, cat pee

And other scents stoked when
He tips himself over on tarmac
To rock and to roll, get stoned
Like any common sparrow or mule
Who seeks the coarse snuff, fresh
From its mill on the crossroads.

A universe of no towels, where
Spa day’s a tight slap from the sun
Where no dryers, clippers, pliers, 
Ear buds, or sweaters exist, no soap
And no suds. Just the heel of the body
Ground into the palm of the earth.

Not one to outrun the sands of time
But invert the whole on the 
Pads of his paws and juggle the hours
With his nose in the clouds, Kalu
Takes mid day, the bull by its horns and
Has it lie still like the eye of a storm.

***