ancients called it the black dog
hanging on a sheep’s rump
slavering brazen eyed
any chance it got
a humping
heeler
blue

blue
is primary
now on the wheel
howling as it turns, turns
swirling on a pin like the sky
the ocean’s trenches diving into
someplace else a pool beneath a tree

inside a painted house a hanging door
blue in daub dab on mirror frame
swinging window sky inside
digging up from under
black dog bites
bared
blue

Sarah St Vincent Welch

 

Sarah St Vincent Welch is a Canberra based writer, poet and image maker. Her chapbook Open is forthcoming (Rochford St Press 2018).

© 2018