Wednesday, December 15, 2021



(a 55)
The black dog runs
on the wind that
reaps the world.
He bites starlorn
at the moon who knows
his teeth will find marrow.
Behind him comes
the scythe that cuts tomorrow
down to bone.
Moon must learn to bleed,
monkeys to eat snow,
man to live on tears
where the black dog runs.

December 2021


posted for Dverse Poets
Images: Moonrise, 1884, © Stanislaw Maslowski   Public Domain
Wolf-Dog, manipulated, 1976 © Jamie Wyeth  Public Domain


  1. This moved me greatly, Joy. The brevity is used to high effect, and as usual, you turn the precisely perfect phrases in such an order that by the end the reader is just full up with the bright black of this apocalyptic vision. Your use of the moon here is amazing, if I may use that over-used word. Yes, it's dark. But it's so, so, good.

  2. That image of the black dog gives me the shivers!

  3. This reads like a piece of mythology... so very very good... the black dog eating the marrow of the boon. So gothic and fitting for the darkness of winter.

  4. Oh my God, this is stunning, Hedgewitch <3 The powerful imagery, the inevitability of each being's role in this tale, playing itself out magnetically. Like a gothic fairy tale. I feel like there are codes beneath the surface I need to decipher, that I am an unsuspecting fool stumbling upon this scene :-)

  5. So stunning, dark, and thought-provoking. What's not to like?

  6. This bites clear and true -- aphotic blues for the Hecat of direst duty. Oboes like this you only hear in the deadest night (a realm it is difficult to sing out of). I think the obscure word could have served for a title alone (in all the poems I've read in the challenge, placing them in the body creates unnecessary work for the reader). Not really sure what these mountains are in the spirit, but they're sharp and tower, like fangs.

  7. "the scythe that cuts tomorrow
    down to bone."

    Wow... wow. I agree with whoever wrote this reads like a myth. So dark and intense.

    All best,
    David [ben Alexander]

  8. Joy, I love that image and remember it from fb. The black dog does run with an insatiable appetite these days.

  9. the bone moon, filled with marrow. as ever, your 55s weave magic - precise words unfolding more expansive dimensions ~

  10. A dark mythical piece of 55 words. I admire how it starts and cycle back to the black dog.

  11. We seem to have even ceased trying to catch him.

  12. Ominous and yet alluring mythical imagery, Joy. What a compelling read!


"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats