The lieutenant ordered me to ask Abdhul
if he would sell one of the speckled puppies
his mongrel bitch was mothering.
As I waited for Abdhul to finish cleaning his rifle
— he is known to be testy — I reviewed the difference
between “puppy/son of a dog” and “bitch/mother.”
Obedience, as even generals must understand,
is no substitute for idiom. I translated,
praying to get it right once. When, however,
Abdhul first shot the lieutenant, then slit his throat,
then lopped his sex and threw the mess to the mongrel,
I was once more left to grieve for my imperfections.
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