This Is Us Saint’s Day

This is us Saint’s Day. This is us Saint’s Day.

The frescoed snow makes it that way,

the yellow haloes scraped by the tethers –

Benedice.

Bring palms.

Hands to hotly breathing bless.

Pass by Cut Paws and Kennel Cough –

prayer’s the run, hell’s the kennel –

they coughcough steam,

their agony dwindle.

The sled jerk and the skids crease down hard

and every dog is baying for a six minute run –

broiling bellies in snow, snapping jaws on snow,

drilling pissholes in snow – Deo! Deo!

Hup! Hup! Hup!

Yodelling Gloria as we run, sled-dogs jamp

like strangled surf towards heaven.