Kate Deimling

is a poet, writer, and French translator. Her poems have appeared in Slant, Notre Dame Review, Tar River Poetry, Naugatuck River Review, The Midwest Quarterly, Valparaiso Poetry Review, Plainsongs, and other magazines. She lives in Brooklyn, New York and is an associate poetry editor for Bracken. Find her online at www.katedeimling.com.

On Buying a Piece of Water Buffalo Horn as a Chew Toy for my Dog

Amidst the bins of crisp cod and marrow bones
there’s a polished mahogany cylinder
smooth in my hand. The tag gives no origin,
just says water buffalo horn, and I imagine

this animal standing by the Ganges, tips
of fur stirred in the wind, mouth
sinking to munch on patches of grass,
broad, dark eyes reflecting the sky.

I tell myself there can be no profit
in selling only the horn, right?
They slaughter the beast for meat,
send its horn to the States

through this vast web
of economy uniting us all
so my dog can sit and stare
with the same focus she applies

to a stick, open her muzzle
with its quivering whiskers
and clamp down on the remnant
of this ruminant’s showy finery

from eight thousand miles away
in this dog-eat-water-buffalo world.