4

4

4

I am so indifferent
to the limits
of feelings
I can’t tell the difference
every time someone lifts my flap
the unwashed salad
the unheated leftovers
the sanitary products are standard but bear no relation
to what I expected
to feel overlaid
with various forms of filth
don’t you sometimes feel
like getting wrapped in a dog towel
and buried in the hardening ground
under the Canadian maple? Do dogs
need to approach death
and back away from it
like I did when the vet injected
deep pentobarbital & his bowels ejected across the floor tiles
I was there
to inhale his fur and weep
for my benefit
I am not independent
of my feelings this way
of talking about feelings
has fooled each one of us my arms around
his only
adored and stinking
neck
dead
up my nostrils