The Ritual Life of Animals

The animal walks beside me,

long-toothed partner

in a sacrificial dance.

It lies down on the land

as I walk upright.

It has come from the swampy beginnings

of blood, lung, hand.

Killing is the prayer

before its every meal.

And in the dark nocturnal waking,

there’s the falling

to all fours, a wild seeing,

other ears hearing.

After breathing and clawing

is the solemn rite of sleep

that crosses

into dream,

that holds

council with foreign tongues

and common hungers.

In the sleeping bird,

the dream is flying south.

The male

is the dance before the female,

and there is fear; I am the enemy

dreamed in the restless sleep of whale,

bird, those who possess

the desperate gifts

of feigning death, running,

turning the color of snow.

In the silence

of night,

in the warmth of human bodies,

are the nocturnal wakings.

Something inside gets down on its haunches.

At the borders of our beds

are the strange ways, voices,

the slow shifting of eyes, turning of ears.

They hear us, smell us, dream us.

We lie down

in the long nights of their waking,

the world of animal law,

the house of pelvic truth.