an elderly dog
An Elderly Dog
The sun is coming down hard the dog sleeps in the shadow
on the terrace. I sit indoors and try to play the mandolin.
Sweaty palms, no good. The dogs comes to the doorway
barks. I put the mandolin on a chair, dog goes back to sleep.
The winter had been long I had looked forward to summer,
but this was too much. We, the dog and I, used to go to
the beach, but dogs aren’t allowed there anymore and
I’m too fucking old. I pick up the mandolin smash it against
the living room wall, a picture of me in uniform falls down,
broken glass everywhere. “Now, see what you have done.”
I shout to the dog, but the old cur doesn’t batter an eyelid.
Comments about this poem (an elderly dog by oskar hansen )
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