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Monday, 24 December 2012

Meet the Breeds


Your fur, your paws, your unbiased tongue;
flesh and fingernails, the sweep and the scrape of introduction.
Pounding the wrong way down city streets
in rush hour.

It is body language that sings her elegy;
friend and foe, the friction and the frisee of first touch.
Instructions read: keep your palm down and 
extend toward nose

It is enchanting to meet you;
wrists and ribbons, the perfume and the clasp of ownership.
Imagined arms, legs wrapped around
soft upturned bellies.  

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