“Meep,” says the sterling squirrel,
well aware of what its noises
would do in a neighborhood dominated
by angry devil dogs, the sort
whose bark and bite match perfectly.
They gnash and chomp at the air,
gruesome lil’ suckers bent on biting
whatever it is they can find
on a sunny afternoon.
But at sunset, they take on
a timid disposition, retreating
back into their grisly hidey-holes
to snip at their tails in frustration
as brutal pan-species vampires
begin their sanguinary trawl.
WHARVED 