Death Of The Dog - Poem by jack peachum
Summer's end, time to put the rugs out again,
amid memories of pee, slobber, detritus of the dog,
lay out the same ones we pulled up for her
- in surprisingly good shape-
a quick vacuuming— stains hardly visible.
Meantime, an old ghost sleeps in the corner,
stirs to wakening,
vying for our attention.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about Death Of The Dog by jack peachum
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You