NaPoWriMo #17

Coping Ugly

You were a rubbish dog
and all I could think about today;
never came when called,
scared of the stick when thrown,
would lurk in the dark of the stairwell –
where I still step over
the memory of your fury body
ready to turn tail and bite
under pressure of a foot -,
didn’t like children,
had a mind all your own.
An absolute dog.

I honestly think something in my mechanism went,
when we were disallowed the formality of burial.
This is me attempting ‘goodbye’.

.

Depending on your pronunciation of the title, you may have thought this poem was about heavy-petting.

Tara,

Fionn Coughlan-Wills.