Dodowa Road

Lapping dogs with lamenting dirges
called to me from sunburned Savannah
hills. Thirsty dogs, dry as sand and wind-
streaked tongues, with paws cracked
in Hamartan heat, pad up and down
the blood red road. Back and forth
they oscillate, circle round and round,
dead dogs. They haunt the side of the road,
rotting like war, rotting like rinds
of salted roast. Day after day, electricity,
cascading neurons, vanish with five
o'clock sunset. Hair and eyebrows gone
like a two year old's birthday cake.
Muscle and skin, toenails and eyeballs
are devoured like a fine book at one a.m.
Nerves and muscle, cartilage and soft
organs are pulled from cavities like precious
jewels and day after day, the road reaches
long to the north, and south to the sea.
The entire walk, rotting dogs decay
to dusty bones and dripping dreams.