The Beagle – Poem by Katy Santiff

Poetry by Katy Santiff

There were moments when we
had no cares–two bush-struck
banshees bursting through berry brush,
in rushes to meet the creek before
the scent was lost, the trust we gave
our foot-falls, the old trees brown,
scaley walls, wiffs of wood rot
wafting mossy spectors in the air.
I’d see your black nose diving,
flashing me your gargoyle’s grin,
the glistening spittle on your chin,
confirming reason for our out-trip:
the prey you stalked was there.

I will remember you, never in
your crescent’s final closing but
your substance fully crowning,
red and white-lit throaty knight. Now bellows
November’s nocturnal defender,
hunting below a growing moon.

And when the angels stoop low
to ask, wrapped resplendent
within their solar baths,
refraining every rainbow,
resounding every hue like synesthesiacs
from whence you came:
you tell them that your person lent them you.

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About the Poet

Katy Santiff has written poetry in various forms all her life. A fan of meter and rhyme, she loves lines that hypnotize the reader with their sound.  She believes in densely packed poems, preferring them to be mouthful when read aloud.  A lifelong Marylander, she loves waterside living.  She currently resides in Edgewater, Maryland.  Her works have been published in Vita Brevis, Spillwords Press, and Uppagus Magazine.

For the first time in nearly five years, Vita Brevis is closed for submission. Read the full story here.