Black Dog I
By Magdalena Ball
Published: October 16, 2007

Waiting
under your dirty grey cloud
alone at the bus stop
black dog barking
under the bench.

Beneath my broken fingernails
the paint chips
but I can’t get through
to stop the noise
the repeated ruff ruff
pulling all sound towards
the insistence of its demands
look at me
howl like me
beneath the bars
endlessly waiting
while you skip happily past
a brief wave
a wink
you’re gone.

And there I was
thinking
the dog was you.

 

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