• Endria Richardson

The Dog Poem

Yesterday, I walked

from the top of a hill

to its bottom. I saw

a tall girl with a black man,

a dog, gravity in the dog’s


They were braced

against the wind,

sharp as two converging lines:

the hill,

and his descent.

I saw only the neatness in the wind.

It was the squared legs of the dog.

The way he stretched

flat as a reed

that grows against the

salted canefields where the dog has never been,

unframed as a bullroar,

as fixed as the sound of

the cor anglais,

with only two reeds to keep it

in place


above the sound of the wind,

which is the sound of a voice

blowing across his back.

#music #dog #wind #coranglais #poem

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