Two dogs are locked together
on the far side of the track.
Other feral hounds linger,
salivating for a turn. The woman
slicing thick wedges of pineapple
to quench us pays them no heed.
Our guide waves his hands
in the humid air, draws our attention
to the banana buds, guava hanging
heavy and indecent from their trees.
We re-board our bucking mini-bus,
lollop across Sabah to a hotel of huts
strung with mosquito nets. At night,
swathed in white, we try to sleep,
but we can still hear the shrilling
of the bitch who seems to believe
that she will never again be free.