Night-Work

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Every night sand trucks
drivers gunning their engines
taking the top road
racket of high revs.
Now dogs barking and answering.
Night throws dimension of fear
down their dog souls. Here
no dog forests or dog deserts
where fear and beauty shift.

Instead
the needling starlight
sharp as genes; locked backyards
holding centuries of blood
and adrenalin, evolution’s
chain of endless nights.
And the slamming truck’s
banging trays, deafening steel
without load, hungry things
hurtling back to the pit.

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