Saturday, January 18, 2014

rewrite

Dreaming Skippy



My hands tangle in fishing line and wet
matted dog hair, where I loosen
it tightens elsewhere, Skippy quiet
shrinks under my care. I grasp
a ball of fluff, detritus and line
no beating breathing dog. It grows dark
I turn to see an unfurling tail,
darker form than night,
she runs through my dream and I call her
until I wake standing in a wood alone.


1/3/14
1/13/14
mh





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