Houlihan's Wake by Bryan Murphy - HTML preview

Dog Day Sundown

Far from winter and work, the sun still sets

on a perfect, dog-free bay in southern Mexico.

Filaments of eye-candy cloud

squeeze the horizon into layers,

then part the curtain on the evening’s stars:

Mars and Venus, crescent waxing moon.

A watcher on the beach sifts sand,

peers at what thoughtless fingers raise:

a leather collar, cut sharp, stained dark,

a name engraved - “Tigre, Posada Las Americas”.

Inside the town, once clouds reclaim the night,

the mayor sleeps deep and sound.

She’s paved the road outside her house, raised taxes,

“cleansed” the beach. A second term may come.