Saturday, October 20, 2007

the yellow dog poem


The yellow dog invites my animal

body back into this world

though we are older, white

at muzzle, gnarled of muscle

We run the dirt roads

under the hawk flash

& over the green fields, tongues

red in the sun spiked air

Such perfume of skunk & dung

So much rejoicing, mud & sprout

& our live blood pounding

The yellow dog says we need this

to leap like deer

to risk everything

I have a poet friend who says we all write at least one dead dog poem. This was a live dog poem, in honor of Buddy, written years back. He died today, very peacefully, nearly 16 years old as near as we can figure.

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