Not That They Do Much About It

You sense from how the house pets sniff you,

They’re registering how ill you are.

The bodies are in conversation,

One wafting, guess what I’m hiding here,

The other responding, smells like death.

Funny how you could never sniff out

Hidden malignancy in a pet.

You need visuals and behavior

Changes, which you’re still slow to notice.

For all of the vaunted vibrissae

Of artists attuned to the Zeitgeist,

Tales, poems, and paintings are slow as well,

One of the more ignoble reasons

Artists often end up scurrying

Too late and are snatched up by the state.

If you could put your nose to the ground

Or go down the rabbit holes of screens

Without getting lost in labyrinths,

If you could track straight through and pinpoint

The malignancy, breathing deeply . . .

Then again, you might be just a pet.