At Home With The Hounds

It makes you forget,
that you are just a dying beast,
stills your gnashing, stops your thrashing,
sends the sun crashing east,
brings the dead back as they were,
glues each and every porcelain shard,
Amazing how a memory
turns an inch into a yard
You are there, you are whole,
and the sun won’t quite go down
You are warm, you are cool,
and you’re free from the hounds.

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