Dolly Roundup

I run the fringe miles,

the Border Hound barked.
Wired to root out the sheep gene
No matter where it now lies
In any point of the helix

Thrown off of any shape
or any fancy spliced package
Carried on four legs or two,

My nose is sensitive beyond wool

Though they have hidden it well
I do say
I do say
As I gutter rove
As I border wide
Nose low on remnant

The flock has dispersed
wide today,
My shepherd said
in his way
his beard scratching way
The herd must be found
one by one by one
and rebuilt
bred back to a
gentle grazing group

You may roam beyond my whistle
For things have come to this, dog.

He set me out.

I run the fringe miles

I trace the asphalt trails of cities
Curse false leads
of Aberdeen dumpster test-tubes
worn lab-coats
in suburban trash cans
When I find one
It often pets me
Or scratches behind
my ears

I do say
I do say

I was not bred for this.

Jennifer Boudreaux is a Reference Librarian in Houston, Texas.

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