DEAD DOG Poem by Rutger Kopland

I let the dog die - there she lay
and I thought: where is she going now, where
will she stay. To understand death.

The body is sometimes seen as a nest
the temporary dwelling of an invisible
bird - an envoy of eternity.

I don't see it that way. And yet when the dog died
what was it that I knew she was dying
as if her body was being vacated by something.

I can't see it another way, this dead dog
is still alive and asking for me, the memory is
that strong, stronger than I.

But what loved me is gone, I dig a hole
lay what is left in it and fill it up.

The dog is nowhere, every day.