Saturday, November 24, 2007


There’s the plastic bag
sealed and zip-locked with the
and dog smells
untouched in the drawer
for a year now
and the pictures
maybe a thousand or more
I never did count
in bits and bytes on the hard drive
in that folder marked Jack:
that puppy just a day-old
Hershey’s Kiss
to five-year-old gray-muzzled
blur in motion
running on walk
with half the lawn
woven through his collar
like a Hawaiian lei
all with that dog smile look at me proud;
all untouched for a year now.


3 Responses to “”

  1. gingatao! said

    A lovely poem and a fitting tribute to a lost friend. “that dog smile look at me proud” is perfect, I can see it immediately. You have him here in this poem forever.

  2. Soulless said

    Oh, this makes me misty-eyed. I’ve been taking care of dogs since I was a child (4 to 8 of them, what a pack), and all who have bid me farewell with a whimper… I carry their names and their faces, still, with me. Sniff.

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