STINKY
by the front door lies
a drunkard's dog
his purgatory ends at
last call
an old wound like a tree
bole
throbs on his leg
it is more than two years
now
since the javalinas bit
him up
germs swine are more
used to
live under his skin
the cyst is deep in the
cartilage
he can't walk without
whimpering
on this winter night
his pain is plain as starlight
bright and round and
old as the moon
fine people spend good
money here
and step right over him
i have faith but no money
or i'd steal him and
see what the vet can do
a word to the wise to
his master
could just maybe get
him shot
even crippled like that
he is game enough still
to turn up smelling of
having been skunked
when i see him i bless
him
as best i can
he's the last one i say
good night to here
rubbing his shoulder
like an impotent god
Copyright 01/99 Robert N. Erman