FREEDOM’S DIRTY RING

A dog with (mutt)on chops
dragging a piece of pork around in a yard 
full of tulips lipping every soundwave across 
my mega-powered irreducible hand-mirror

lapped up the moment like the water in the bowl
while I watched scenes of families play-out 
in suburbs across fences, across faces, tresses 
and bricked hideouts with my mouth opened

& out of the warm beyond, a voice like a 
river-charm called out to me in a panic
& I felt the blindspot in my head fill up 
with a pouring glow like a Renaissance 

& the words “Look out!” simultaneously rang 
at that very moment that a spasmic sound 
of a weapon firing off sent the unwilling bullet into 
the rabid animal’s flesh (not the dog) that had 

charged at me without a sound like a red-raged bull
& I collapsed like a bell-tower destroyed by war 
but yet still sounds-off as if coughing up its own 
dusty rubble like a vocal harking-hearkening 

setting me free on the piercing tunes of freedom’s 
dirty ring.