[Donna English]

Here's another Spherian poet

Martin Elster
Startle in REM

I wake up with a start, a stifled scream.
I sit up in my bed and look around,
assured myself that it was just a dream.
A crazy dream about my basset hound,
the lead dog in a scary sci-fi flick
about a world of evil, talking mutts;
all humans did was beg to fetch a stick,
or roll in shit, or sleep, or lick their butts.

I see Ol’ Rover lying on the floor
alert, despite his droopy eyes and ears.
He yawns, and then he says, “Good God, you snore!”
I think I better cut back on the beers.