The Mercy Dog

The Mercy Dog

How strange is the war
Which trepanned the heads of men, women, children.
The mercy dog wanders the battlefield of the Somme;
There he lays dying in no man's land.

It is a strange thing, to contemplate.
The dog, the brown of a German's hair,
A hound shaped body, or a mastiff's,
And its red cross upon its shoulder.
It wanders, sniffs out blood
For men---this is the strange thing
See how strange it is
That a man lays dying from the wound
He took from another man---
Why do these men kill?




For Kings, Queens, Democracies,
Autocracies, Panopolies arrayed in rows
Firing mustard gas, its licking smoke
Maddening Prufrock, who probably should have died.

Yet, this man lies dying on the battlefield,
An Irishman, taking a wound in the head.
The mercy dog comes to him,
Lays down, as a bloody hand scratches behind its ear.
Soon, the fingers draw lifeless white,
And they stiffen.
The dog moves to the next body.

How strange it is, that men do this thing.
It is an alien thing that armies move across frontiers 
And the obdurate faces of men having raped, murdered, stolen, killed,
They stand in their glimmering rows.
Afterward, their friends are lying dead upon battlements
And the Mercy Dogs, the Chestnut Mastiffs,
Wander to the wounded, wagging its tail
And what a wonder it is, to lie dying on the battlefield
To see life will leave you listless, to where will you go?
Heaven? Hell? You have fought in war;
The mercurial ichor drips from 
The heathen gods you have slain.

The dog lays beside you, or it takes your cloth
To retrieve it to the medics, and lead them to your wounded corpse.
It is strange, know how strange it is,
That the man lies there, having been hurt by his fellow man;
He dreams of his Beautiful Redhead
The one he never had
The one he never made love to
The one... it was made his God.
Will he have her in the afterlife?

The dog licks the wounds of the dying man,
Its antiseptic tongue licking away the soreness by its breath
And where does the soul of those slain go
On the battlefield?
Young virgins, only twenty years old
Who have shed blood before the virginal flower?

"I do not want any kingdoms
"Or strange worlds vast...
"Simply, my only desire
"Was to have her naked body in my arms,
"And yet, I die never having shared in her warmth;
"I know not amatory's sting,
"And I die."

Neifert, B. K. “The Mercy Dog.” 2022.

©2022 B. K. Neifert
All Rights Reserved