the dog is in
pain. the dog
does not complain.
the dog takes
a pill every morning,
robed in peanut butter.
the dog is happy
for the treat.
the dog does not
spit out the pill.
the dog is in
pain. the dog
does not complain.
the dog greets people
as it passes,
when we go for
a walk along
the sea.
the dog leaps
from the car when
we arrive,
the dog pauses
and hesitates when
we leave.
the dog is in
pain. the dog
does not complain.
when i take
a shower,
the dog collapses
onto the bath mat.
when i go
into the kitchen,
the dog flops
upon its floor.
when i am in
the living room,
the dog thuds
onto its bed,
only steps from my feet.
when i go into
the bedroom at night,
the dog shuffles in
alongside me,
plunks itself
onto the floor.
we join the other
in our dreams.
the dog greets me
gladly in the morning.
the dog sees me
sweetly off to bed.
i wake to wandering
sadness. i wake
to muttering dread.
i wake to
minor ache and
pain. i wake
to persistence
of complaint.
the dog is in
pain.
you would
never know
the dog
does not complain.
