Trench Whistle by Jehanne Dubrow

I call my dogs with it, a blast of sound                 

that summons them from far across the grass,   

and they come running at the trill, each hound              

a blur of lead-gray fur, a yipping mass.   

They only know the pleasures of the lawn,                     

the clovered fragrances. This cry I make 

is like a strident bird that’s quickly gone,

the branch now bare, the air that seems to shake

with what was there before. They can’t conceive:                           

this whistle mobilized whole companies                         

of men. Its voice was sharp enough to cleave                 

the clamor of the front, the batteries                                 

of mortar rounds. I call, and each dog runs,                              

unhunted by the terror of the guns.         

Jehanne Dubrow is the author of nine poetry collections, including most recently Wild Kingdom (Louisiana State University Press, 2021), and two books of creative nonfiction, throughsmoke: an essay in notes (New Rivers Press, 2019) and Taste: A Book of Small Bites (Columbia University Press, 2022). Her third book of nonfiction, Exhibitions: Essays On Art & Atrocity, will be published by University of New Mexico Press in 2023. Her writing has appeared in POETRY, New England Review, Colorado Review, and The Southern Review. She is a Professor of Creative Writing at the University of North Texas. 

3 October 2022