He has a paper route in the wintertime.
And during the summer, he works on a farm.
The dog along the route bothers him.
Crocker's bulldog.
Title of this poem is Ludi Junior Nipped
at by Crocker's Dog Plans Revenge.
When .
He is asleep dreaming of Ludi Jr.'s ankle, when in the dream
his teeth are so deep into bone that the lips drool red?
Where?
At Crocker's house?
Under the front porch?
Atop the damp sifted dust?
How?
With that part of the new blue blade so fine,
it cannot be seen.
For how long?
Again, and again, and again, or until the hind legs
stop jerking.
Why?
Because no matter what my father said, blood for blood
is sweetest.
But only in that poem.