heorte: (Default)
ellis ginsberg. ([personal profile] heorte) wrote 2023-05-17 05:36 am (UTC)

dead dog done, caitlin scarano

The old dog drug itself
across our autumn path, a man's
breath coating my face.
We've been looking for a dog, but not
a damaged dog, not a near-dead dog.
You can't fix the broken with broken.

I'm running
down the ditch. Draping night
across my shoulders. I'm naked
except for the clothes and the cry.
Begging dog to look me in the eye. You
shameful, you turntail, matted surly.

When that dog dug itself out of our bed,
barked at the ghost of us.
What did you expect? Busy
turning keys between your teeth, purled
with burrow and maple and gleam.
No. I got real things to do, real shoes
to sew to real feet.

When that dog didn't drip or bowl,
why didn't you just leave me
on the nightroad          crawl and howl home?

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