Tonight I am playing with a form I haven't written before—a golden shovel. Read more about it on Poetic Asides. Or just go straight to my poem below.
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| That Man's Best Friend |
Not That Man’s Best Friend
after Billy Collins
Why couldn’t you have stayed, like a good boy? Nobody
came fetching for me yesterday (or any day before that). Here,
by the door I wait, desperate to touch upon the likes
of love, the likes of liking, feel a stroke down my back. But a
few years have passed now and my love has turned wet
like the fishy-breathed tongue of a neglected dog.
came fetching for me yesterday (or any day before that). Here,
by the door I wait, desperate to touch upon the likes
of love, the likes of liking, feel a stroke down my back. But a
few years have passed now and my love has turned wet
like the fishy-breathed tongue of a neglected dog.
(Line used: “Nobody here likes a wet dog” from “To a Stranger Born in Some Distant Country Hundreds of Years From Now” by Billy Collins.)
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