When I was little,

before my family broke apart,

My dog died 3 days before my birthday.

I liked dogs then.

My first close death.

It’s just a dog.

They know perfectly well themselves

it was not just a dog.

Because it was my dog who died.

The closes death I’ve ever encountered.

I liked dogs then.

 

We got a new dog for my birthday.

Just three days after.

After a burial,

after a day full of crying.

The smell of a former,

now dead,

dog,

still lurking in this house.

 

So easily was he replaced,

I wonder if I’ll be that easily replaced.

I hope so.

Not like anyone would miss me actually.  

 

I liked dogs then.

 

 

(part of the Michigan Girl Poetry Series)