Hound Speak
At 3am
the hounds are let out for lunch
we bark, growl, bare teeth
howl at the lone cars on the highway
we’re comrades in this spiritual war
poor derelicts fighting to find self
in those hours before mourning
on those breaks in between
we drink what we can
sniff what we find, smoke
until our lungs combust
the ones who have it
take care of those who don’t
we jump in temporary freedom
until the time-clock
beckons us back inside
in those hours on the sales floor
you have time
to think, reflect
on all those dark things
you try and ignore in the sun
the things you say have weight
under those fluorescent lights
like bees buzzing between
your ears, you must address them
when the morning comes
we emerge, gaunt, pale
eyes cowering from the light
scurrying off to our homes
we sleep the day away
ignore the ones we love
carry the hurt, close to our chests
and breath again at midnight
this is less of a job
this is a way of life
we may not be able to hide
away from the world forever
but we sure are trying.
.
About the Author: Damian Rucci’s work has recently appeared in Cultural Weekly, Beatdom, Big Hammer, and coffee shops and basements across the country. He is an author of three chapbooks and a split Former Lives of Saints with Ezhno Martin. Damian hosted the Poetry in the Port reading series, currently hosts the Belle Ringer Open Mic and is a poet in residence at the Osage Arts Community in Belle, Missouri. He can be reached at damian.rucci@gmail.com
.
More by Damian Rucci:
.
Image Credit: “Steeplechase Pier night, Atlantic City, New Jersey” Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, photograph by John Margolies
As It Ought To Be 