Trapped Dingo Poem by Patrick Dennis

What wild triumph of nerve and bone is this!
To drag by your hind foot my steel trap
and the heavy anchor log. And, so encumbered,
in your last frenzy of escape to scale
the sheep-netting fence to be where you are now
head-down dangled on the fence freedom side.
Oh, were you not evil I would be awestruck.

You are no flesh and blood dog.
No. In your extremity close up
you show me you are pure - something else.
A dog does not have a jaw machined and elemental as yours.
A dog does not have your pitiless evil eyes, you -
you patchwork of evil, you mongrel timber wolf.
Even as you hang there you have the lineaments of murder.

Begone from this land, you and your tribe.
You I shall shoot. Against your tribe I shall war on
until your carcass and the last ghost-howl to the crescent moon
fade to lucent bone.

There is no room here for you and me both.
You and I are steel trap battle-pitched
to the last victim's impotent bleat.

Ah, how I hate you, you devil.
You remind me of something.