There’s a Dog Barking in the Monastery
by
Radiance Angelina Petro

There’s a dog barking in the monastery,
there are men who drown on land. Even the wisest

grope in the dark, and lightening reveals the nature
of spirit, and I am still alive, and long ago stopped drawing

lines in the sand, and somehow eight becomes nine, and nine
becomes ten, and so on, and so forth, and no matter what

someone will have the last word. It’s my hope to be relaxed
and generous, and while silence has its faults, and the night

and I are so often not on the same page, I have still managed
to empty my mind once or twice (haven’t figured out where

it’s contents goes though), and I’ve been doted on by the wind,
and I still laugh at the word “eyeball” (it’s an eye and a ball),

and I have a zeal to do good, and if I were a snake
in a basket I’d gladly allow myself to be drawn out

by the snake charmer’s music. But really, if you need me
today, I’ll be in a monastery somewhere

in the cloudy mountains, barking as soon as
the meditation bell begins to ring.