By Diane Funston
New neighbors
A pair of malamutes
Friendly they hang over fence
for petting
Twin glaciers
Mounds of fur
Must be a blizzard indoors
They lap my fingers
wag plume tails
as my pit bull’s solid red whiptail
circles in a skinny propeller
Black and white big footed beasts
Eyes oblique
aquamarine cabochons
tongues salmon flesh
My tiny chihuahua offers
warnings from window
She knows those giants
weren’t there a while ago
Somehow they calved
and floated inland
one winters night