Frozen in a van
with my cheeks blown against my bones
I marvel at the cut
a dog heals along his tongue.
The blood where he gnaws his fleas
on foot haunch and jowl
dries like water, sheds like mud or grease
and the one impossible wound is to his lessons,
because he has all faith in my friend
whose trip across country
afflicted his eyes
as though rivers and engineers
threatened a dam across his health.

The puppy is mathematical,
Steve a kettle from the waves
that boiled over into energy
mixed as media in the young star sign,
another ram stirring water for bloody marriage
and a tender explosion in the heavens
unnoticed,
to be fed with dreams and tables and voices in
the sparkle of fingernails and mirrors
while the dive from a rock
bends toward the legendary pool.