You had the borough’s loudest bark,
liked a good romp, a sometime brawl.
Now you’re lost in a place so dark

you cannot find a tree to mark,
nor a patch of lawn on which to sprawl.
You had the city’s lustiest bark,

loved chasing chipmunks in the park,
came running when you heard me call.
Now you’re lost in a land so dark

the frisbees wander off their arc.
No odors there, nor even a ball
to fetch. Inside my dreams, you bark

then leap in the rapids on a lark.
The leash I’m grasping snaps as you fall
to the cataract of timeless dark.

I catch a glimpse, a familiar spark
of brown and white. I see you crawl,
roll over, sit—hear one faint bark
from the farthest, darkest land of dark.

____________

(Appeared in Love Affairs at the Villa Nelle, edited by Marilyn L. Taylor & James P. Roberts.)