Mutt Poem by Dick Laurent
Mutt
Fingers sprayed on plastic roofs
Hanging from the helpless urge
Of mudd delving.
Sleeping under the smoky bungalow
Half moon freeze:
a dog waiting to repent for lack of
courtesy flush- before stamping
his mark into wet cement.
Fingers vaporize paws and
Tail end first we fall
And wait for our breakfast in the dew.
Keep us alive:
remember
the
cold
plastic playhouse
every
night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 5:29:30 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I love the images conjured here. Well, I don't love what they are (that just makes me sad) , but I love the exquisite detail of them. This makes me think of a dying pigeon.