Red Collar
By Tanya Delys Mandorla
I taught my dogs to live in the moment.
Both of them were standing in the pound�s cement cells
thinking ahead to grass.
Both wishing they had smokes to barter for marrow split bones
a tin can to rap along the bars and howl the blues, so moonshine rich,
those cute girls in overalls�
them cooing, patting, pretty girl volunteers
who cleaned up desperate shit every day and hosed their workplace tears
filled with wolf croons, away�would let them out.
My dogs watched me come along
with my siren�s song
a lush life of tax check and a car full of juice, the windows rolled down.
They watched me stop, block to block with the cool eye of a killer,
my red collar warning I was dangerous around babies
I required a big fence, a choke chain collar and desexing.
They watched me arrive at their bars and sat like good boys
I said �Get in the car.�
They sat perfectly straight, two old lawn bowlers out for the day, torturing p platers
with over braking and ten k�s under the speed limit
they just needed their white bowling hats.
I couldn�t stop laughing at them in the rear view mirror.
My car kingdom smelled of hair conditioner, ashtray, triple J and petrol receipts blowing into their vulpine eyes.
They were too grateful to ride the wind then
both sat real straight and learned fast when I yelled �stomach muscles!� meant brace, or wear the dashboard.
I took them home to home one, home two, home no dogs, home no fence, home five outside dogs, home six inside dogs/outside person basking on her verandah.
My dogs learnt to lie in the moment.
They learnt to get real apologetic and distract authority when I hackled up.
They made soft brown, beaming eyes and upside down clown mouths at my den mother threats.
They got fat with me
and we all clipped our nails together in afternoon pyjama parties on the outside person verandah.
I reminded them, to go back, go way back to their ancestors
back to when life was laying in the winter sun of a morning
eating baked dinner scraps, enough to last for the future famine
raising howls as a toast instead of a protest.
We live safe in the smell of each other�s shit
I taught my dogs to live in the moment
and when they die, if they die before me
I shall strap on my red collar
and go and rescue two more.
Notes: p platers are new drivers on probation.
Triple J is a radio station. (As Wikipedia says: 'Triple j is a government-funded national Australian radio station intended to appeal to listeners between the ages of 18 and 24. The station places a greater emphasis on Australian music and alternative music compared to commercial stations.)
Both of them were standing in the pound�s cement cells
thinking ahead to grass.
Both wishing they had smokes to barter for marrow split bones
a tin can to rap along the bars and howl the blues, so moonshine rich,
those cute girls in overalls�
them cooing, patting, pretty girl volunteers
who cleaned up desperate shit every day and hosed their workplace tears
filled with wolf croons, away�would let them out.
My dogs watched me come along
with my siren�s song
a lush life of tax check and a car full of juice, the windows rolled down.
They watched me stop, block to block with the cool eye of a killer,
my red collar warning I was dangerous around babies
I required a big fence, a choke chain collar and desexing.
They watched me arrive at their bars and sat like good boys
I said �Get in the car.�
They sat perfectly straight, two old lawn bowlers out for the day, torturing p platers
with over braking and ten k�s under the speed limit
they just needed their white bowling hats.
I couldn�t stop laughing at them in the rear view mirror.
My car kingdom smelled of hair conditioner, ashtray, triple J and petrol receipts blowing into their vulpine eyes.
They were too grateful to ride the wind then
both sat real straight and learned fast when I yelled �stomach muscles!� meant brace, or wear the dashboard.
I took them home to home one, home two, home no dogs, home no fence, home five outside dogs, home six inside dogs/outside person basking on her verandah.
My dogs learnt to lie in the moment.
They learnt to get real apologetic and distract authority when I hackled up.
They made soft brown, beaming eyes and upside down clown mouths at my den mother threats.
They got fat with me
and we all clipped our nails together in afternoon pyjama parties on the outside person verandah.
I reminded them, to go back, go way back to their ancestors
back to when life was laying in the winter sun of a morning
eating baked dinner scraps, enough to last for the future famine
raising howls as a toast instead of a protest.
We live safe in the smell of each other�s shit
I taught my dogs to live in the moment
and when they die, if they die before me
I shall strap on my red collar
and go and rescue two more.
Notes: p platers are new drivers on probation.
Triple J is a radio station. (As Wikipedia says: 'Triple j is a government-funded national Australian radio station intended to appeal to listeners between the ages of 18 and 24. The station places a greater emphasis on Australian music and alternative music compared to commercial stations.)
I know there are plenty of dog lovers here, so there is not much I need to say to recommend this.
The bio notes she supplied are brief and to the point:
Tanya Delys Mandorla is a radio presenter on River FM Lismore.
She has one book of poetry, Burn The Brunette and is currently working on a second collection.
I'm the lucky owner of a copy of Burn the Brunette (which unfortunately is only available in paperback, not ebook) and I can tell you it is all as wild and wonderful as the poem I've shared with you; it positively sizzles. Her poetry works equally well spoken aloud or on the page � which I guess is what most of us aspire to.
Poems and photos used in �I Wish I�d Written This� remain the property of the copyright holders (usually their authors).
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