Today's poem is by Jin Cordaro

After We Buried the Dog in the Dark
       

He came back. I saw him
in the grass, the white of him
glowing in the floodlight,
the wind turning it off and on again.
I saw his face at the door,
waiting to be let in,
his nose leaving smears across the glass.
Days later, I heard him in the kitchen
pacing blindly for his supper
and that night a soft crinkle
as he shifted in his bed.

Love wants to be fed.
It will return again and again,
holding a memory firmly in its jaw,
and you must throw or keep.
It will grow old,
too weak to walk.
You'll carry it everywhere at the end
until it nods, turns in a circle,
lies down.

Copyright © 2025 Jin Cordaro All rights reserved
from A Map For Exiting The Body
Terrapin Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission