THE TEN LICENSES
I want the doghouse owned by the hound next door,
the one I let be whipped, right after I dug
the garden up to steal an old bone, but before,
when he was at the vet, I fucked his pug,
and three months since I knocked off the family cat.
And if my dead mom, the rangy old bitch herself,
could join me on a Sunday walk, or a piss,
Christ, with what joy we would consecrate our own scat
to our dear Lord Anubis, now sitting on the shelf,
the god that lets us get away with all this.