Corona VII



With my eyes open I know what I am,

And what I am is lost in this nothing.

They sent me off drugged and bound with no plan,

Never to come home. I can only sing,

Howl my fear and my loneliness at a

Moon grown too large, too bright, and when my throat

Becomes too raw to sing, then I will say

Nothing. I will whimper a single note,

Musica canis, the song of living

Creatures in endless night. I want to go

Home. I want the scent of poppies, swimming

Holes, of summer fields, of the things I know.

But what I am is beyond redeeming:

A dog without a home, floating, dreaming.


8 responses to “Corona VII

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