Bret R. Crabrooke (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Inside Shakespeares:
One, two, three:
My dogs are barking sonnets
As they mark their territory:
When the horses stumble,
When the snowflakes fall,
My dogs just sniff the earth,
And howl:
They can smell your
Absence on my crotch,
And sympathize
With my hungry tooth,
About the hypothesis of children
They pat a watch,
As through the forest
They slink and sleuth:
Their noses know the
Penumbra of the moon,
And when the weather is
Turning gray,
They come clawing on
My windowpane:
I let them in,
We sleep all day and
Sprawled in the blankets
Sniffing dreams of
You and the things we’d say:
Happy days of long walks
In the countryside,
Friends well met and forests green,
We go together as a pack,
Tongues lolling to the side,
And you would be our sonnet’s queen.