The Afterbirth Poem by Gert Strydom

Your master had discarded you
when he left for Spain
and left you and your
black and brown mate
and six newly born puppies.

He had decided to give you away
to people who already
had five other dogs,
promising to get
the both of you castrated
and then you got in heat
and it was evident
that none of his promises
he would meet.

I see you with dear brown eyes
lying between your pups,
cuddling and feeding them
and dancing with joy
when you see me.

I turn one of the seats
of the lounge suite over
and it is marked with blood
on the one side
where some navel strings
and afterbirth left their marks

and another of your master’s lies
that you gave birth
on the floor
is exposed
and I wonder why
they didn’t clean off the blood
when it was still a possibility
and if integrity means nothing
to some people?