Thursday, February 16, 2017

Barking Dog

I hear a barking dog  in the distance,
disconsolately, at night, frustrated 
by its own inarticulateness,
lacking the words by which humans dictated

to it what could and could not possibly be,
not only in dog shows where some win prizes
for breeding and being a good doggie
but in dog pounds where a mutt realizes

it’s lost its master, an orphaned Toto,  
and among the hydrants where it pees  
there’s no Shakespearean pup, no “upstart crow,”
to articulate a dog’s epiphanies,

to use words as wings, to soar above,
skywriting a dog’s fidelity and love.

                              Robert Forrey 

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