She was the wild docile type
Loyal only within the confines
Of the master's house.
Of puppies it littered a legion
Like the sand on the beach.
When hunger came knocking on her door
She threw loyalty to the wind
And howled a thousand barks
With the yawning puppies
Like a prayer session in a Pentecostal church.
She barked and howled and growled
At the rain, sun and wind
And brawled even with her master
While her puppies looked on
Grunting and internalizing her acts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem