A people made by two doggies
lies, exhausted, at the dictator's feet:
the hunger rages, deprecated snake,
amidst the spasms of their languor.
i notice that from the obscene gurgling
that rises from under my crowded table:
i then lean out, just to meet two glances
that sadly implore a bit of compassion.
i then leave the books for the burgers...
there is a heavenly joy in the work
of their frenetic mandibles: now
the glances of my beloved doggies
bring back to the mind the ecstasies
of ancient saint hermits of the Middle Age