The terrier will not relinquish
his hold on it,
frozen in attack he clenches stillness
and would shake it like a rat
but for its vastness.

                           Bad William trembles,
electrons crakling in his wisp
of beard, warrior-sage,
while all of heaven's soldiers
swoop down in staggered assault:
Canis, Ursus, Aries,
first one then the next.

Willie, jump.
No, there, there, Willie, in the rushes.
A terrible exchange.
Stout Wille. Willie the Brave.
Your back, Willie
Willie, five o'clock high.

Behold, your fearsome arsenal,
its plenitude of feints,
its murderous sorties.
Fair William,
Willie the True,
now is your moment arived:

Sweetie boy
you lovely little killer toy
Willie, hold on.

From: Strange Hours Travelers Keep.