skittered onto the streets
to muzzle into torn plastic,
bury their thrilled heads in rotting boxes,
run their tongues up and down
the insides of cans and
feast like cannibals on atrophied flesh
and the foolishness of humans.
Cackling and dancing at disgusted kicks,
a sharp stone hurled, an impotent curse,
they dipped their paws in putrefaction,
glorying in its stick and stench.
They made love to the filth and each other
in bag-littered alleys, under rain-fuzzed streetlamps,
nestling between toxic heaps, festering waste
and the disregarded dignities of humankind.
© Fran Hill