Dogma

Good Dog

What a good dog

what a very good dog

you are but I wonder

sometimes

if you weren’t born

with the oily sheen

of original sin

on your lustrous coat

our thoughtless gift

your feckless friends

eternal damnation

nipping at our flanks

scent of salvation on the breeze

driving us mad

fangs bared

to feral packs of infidels

our legs churning

with dreams of supplication

your gritty tongue  

proclaiming the one true faith
a wag of amazing grace

that saved a wretch like me.