Today's poem is by Regina O'Melveny

Dog
       

Yesterday I planted a tree on my old dog's grave.
The place she often slept, trembling with dreams of tundra.

Wolves scratch at the back door of my sleep.
I don't let them in though my heart slips its catch.

A woman brought me a knobby pomegranate,
dwarf fruit that cracked like a small casket open.

I've never liked rubies or drops of blood.
When my daughter cut her arm, I had to look away.

The world frays, a bandage of stained white gauze.
Sometimes though I know how to dress a wound.

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Copyright © 2024 Regina O'Melveny All rights reserved
from The Shape of Emptiness
Sheila-Na-Gig
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission