A Poetry Sporadical of Repeating Forms
A Poetry Sporadical of Repeating Forms
On a day so hot that we were all indoors
The little dog, dying, could not die
The neem leaves shook in a scant breeze
He shivered sideways and he rolled his eyes
The little dog, dying, could not die
He ground grey dust into his patchy coat
He shivered sideways and he rolled his eyes
Everything went pale in silent heat
He ground grey dust into his patchy coat
At last she went for the shovel, and I for a sack
Everything went pale in silent heat
She brought the shovel down against his back
She went out for the shovel, and I for a sack
Pink mimosa flowers fell to the dirt
She brought the shovel down against his back
The sweat dried before it could soak my shirt
Pink mimosa flowers fell to the dirt
We dug a hole and covered him over with stones
The sweat dried before it could soak my shirt
Back in the shade, I rinsed dust from my hands
We dug a hole and covered him over with stones
The neem leaves shook in a scant breeze
Back in the shade, I rinsed dust from my hands
On a day so hot that we were all indoors
[Originally appeared in So-and-So Magazine]
Anna Lena Phillips is poetry editor of Fringe and book review editor at American Scientist magazine. Her poems appear in journals including BlazeVOX, International Poetry Review, and the Anthology of Appalachian Writers. Her anagrammatically derived series The Endearments can be found at http://theendearments.wordpress.com.