Alexis Foran
we all know what is waiting for our skinny, sandy-brown dogs on moonless winter nights;
long cold, late morning, no sunshine,
deep snow in the fenced-up yard
where he would bound up and down through the slush,
curled tail and spotted tongue wagging,
cutting paths, trails to blaze
until finally, one frigid midnight, his bony hips will give out, he will slip
jump and break, can’t stand again
seize on the floor, eyes rolling back
until finally, must decide to carry him off to vet,
two lone parents agreeing not to wake the kids