Dog King

The dog king, I wish there were, king of just bent velvet ears and fish muzzles. Called to stand before the dog king to answer for my sins, the dog king. Deep underground, in the cool earth and smooth stones, thick fur and a sea of upturned, black satin noses. Torchlight turning on a crowd of gold and green, his army of watching night. Sighs and bad farts and endless excitement over squirrel dreams here or there. Don't try to pet the dog king. It's too late for that.