the stiff-legged dog still
wants to play and race
old bones, stretched
taut muscles like lightning
through molasses across
the yard like she tore up
the house as a puppy once
a white storm with black ears
and teeth           she flinches
when I put the ointment on
the scrapes from falling, but
I think she knows I’m helping
her           know I understand you
are not having fun          if
you’re not getting hurt

 

///

This Is Not a Literary Journal :: Inside of a Dog