El Galgo Espanol
by Fiona Nicholson (copyright)

Laughter and jeers pursue him
as starvation no longer responds.
His failure can’t be tolerated
in this land
of pleasure and fun.

Merciless beat of a foreign sun
burns my steps as I search long
for him. I know
he plays the piano somewhere
in this land of
indulgence and sin.

In olive groves screaming of death,
wire gouges deep into his neck,
Skin splitting like cheese, tears apart,
as his feet tap a deadly tune.

His teeth bare wide in a grimace
of pain.
He hangs helpless there.
His feet scrabble wildly
for purchase.
He cannot bleed the tears from his eyes.

Flies roam on his eyeballs, baked dry.
Body parchment stretched tight
over bone.
Legs no longer have strength
to hold him
And he sinks into oblivion.

Seven days suspended in terror.
Seven days he fights to be free.
In despair,
seven days I wander
Pierced by his cries, I cannot hear.

And when I stumble upon him,
olive branches bow low in despair.
Maggots feast on
the heart that was faithful,

And his agonies invade me then.

Thank you Fiona, for a beautiful thought-provoking piece of prose. If anyone wishes to reprint this, you need the permission of Fiona.