Green Dobermans

Cut open the dog head. Cup the pale green
brain. Its head is an avocado.
Take out its stone then the fork from your pocket.
Drag it over the muzzle. The blood runs out in ribbons
into the hair. Its dog-ribbon hair.
The dog-egg in the pan boils, barks through red
and endless dark, bubbles stars into light,
lies down inside my bitten ankles, ballerina tutus,
they dance away from me. Our sheets hang like lungs
on the washing line. Capillaries shoot blue, bark green
Dobermans through the streets
of Santiago. the size of small horses,
liquid lime, they run as zaps, snapping
the swinging tassels on my bag.

— Liz Adams

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