It seems like many years
but maybe it is not
that I have watched you
or at least thought that I did.
It has become a ritual
much like all the years
of sitting in pews
on winter mornings
breathing incense and stray prayers
and waiting for a miracle.
Remembering you
is almost like that when
I think about all I used to believe
and of all the things I did
in the name of something
that wasn’t really there.
Crippled Dog Dreams of Running
The car was a long time ago;
no need, really, to recall,
even if he could.
It seems now without
these hind legs dragged
uselessly, tearing his feet sometimes
on concrete and leaving
thin trails of pink blood
that one wouldn’t know,
as he lies flat on his side
that he wasn’t who he was
as he sleeps,
four legs twitching,
muffled mini barks puffing his jowls
that he was not again
in green fields of early days
chasing all that moved
wild and okay
with all that used to be.
Bill Barone earned his B.A. in English from Penn State and his M.A. in Creative Writing from Miami University of Ohio. Three of his poems recently appeared at Dead Snakes, Dark Matter Journal, and The Fear of Monkeys.contact
