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a poem by Holly Day

My Dog's Dreams

My dog tells me that our days are numbered
that any day now, the skies will open and dog angels
will flutter down to the earth, wave spears tipped with
lightning and kill us all. Dogs will inherit the earth.

I pat my dog's head, scratch him behind the ears
stare deep into those droopy brown eyes
look for signs of malice. He speaks of
the inevitable destruction of mankind
with the same fervent passion as he does
when requesting new chew toys
or announcing the approach of the mailman.

He says he wishes he could save me, but
the new world will belong only to dogs. He
asks me to pray with him
pray for a maybe world where I'll be saved
as some sort of dog slave, a pet.
He licks my hand with his soft, warm tongue

says he'll miss me
when I'm gone.

© by Holly Day
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #26 ~ April 2013