I Am Not a Dog, But Beware My Fangs

by Adam Crittenden

A chunk
of sandy carrion

at my front door.
The tenant in A13
caught me fixated

on the washed up meat
and attempted humor:
“You’re a werewolf, huh?”
His fleshy smile frightened

me and I
fled to a beach, covered
in jetsam. A cautious voice:
“safety is like milk.”

Adam Crittenden holds an MFA in poetry from New Mexico State University and serves as an editor for Lingerpost, Puerto del Sol and Apostrophe Books. His work has appeared or will appear in Whiskey Island, Metazen, Marco Polo Magazine, > kill author, and several other journals. He currently teaches composition and creative writing in Albuquerque.

What can you tell us about the origin of “I Am Not a Dog, But Beware My Fangs”?

    I remember accidently receiving someone’s frozen steaks in the mail once. When I found them on the porch, I had some strange realization about the relationship between meat and people–between animal and human. I can’t say exactly how the odd poem “I AM NOT A DOG, BUT BEWARE MY FANGS” came into existence, but I can say that the revision process was daunting. I always feel challenged when trying to write about the blurred lines of the real and the surreal, but I attempt to do so anyway. I would lastly like to thank all of the authors who wrote homages to Creeley which have inspired some of my writing, including this piece.
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