An Alsatian in a Lallang Field

i saw an alsatian in a lallang field
but it did not bark nor yelp in pain
as it meandered past flaky green blade
and moist dew and as the run rose
over the verdant field of green and gold,
i realised it had a sunken look
and did not become aggressive
in fact moved backwards when I approached it
as if in fear or in mild introspection
more ladylike and wimpish
than aggressive and bold

the filipino maid then laughed and said :
sar, this not alsation but alaskan husky
and went away giggling
as if on sleigh ride she had come
from Alaska itself
with Pollyana smiles and naive afterthought ...

then its master came and shouted Husky,
and tamely did the husky enter through
the iron wrought gate that led into
a brick layered house filled with the smells
of spices of the Orient
and the perfumes of old Arabia :
but not a single bark did I hear of it
and not a whimper nor a yelp too -
even as strangers came and peered into
the vast horizons of its pasture,
there was no confrontasi
nor a dissenting bark
nor a triumph of tail over incredulous stare
it was as if Silence ruled
in both the Alaskan oilfields
as well as on the periphery of the Gulag
where we lived
more like mice than men,
licking out bits of blue cheese
and dining on white elegant wine
with shrapnels of caviar and truffles
at the Ritz
as orphans wailed in the safari
and the corrupt bison of the Ohio
charged into Dick Cheney
who with gun and barrel and fat lugubrious look
drove them all the way back
into the cowsheds of old Mesopotamia
where he preferred them to be
as he drank his bourbon
and suffocated on a Cuban cigar
from the Bay of Pigs ...