Boggy Swamp Poem by Linda Gantt

Listening to the whiskey rattle snore
of a brown-eared shih tzu pup
remembering when I needed
such indeterminate sleep and snoozing much.

Remembering not long ago feeling funerally undone,
dying densely, almost daily,
beset of personal liquid woes:
wanting two for mine alone.

One for physicality:
truly a white hot walk-a-bout special.
One for predictability:
knowing, doing, a strong oak-wooded right.

A porcelain plan hopefully for self
to decide the lover for me
in order to authenticate desire or need.
A life of white-bearded security or sensual whipping free bliss?

Maybe just let tedious silence talk:
viscerally advising me; vainly vermouth controlling me.