Sonnet 2: A small, precious, important eulogy.

Many times, you’ve burst from recollective
Gates in zooming jubilee streaking white
Across some grassy field, a carpet sprite
Jingling like a thrill in mom’s direction.
I lose myself in ways to permeate
Your portrait enveloped in shine and black
A footprint just before your thread went flat
To seal in wax your blessing, unwise saint.
Still, the weight of your head on my chest was
A porcelain egg, embedded and warm
In my sweater, my own bones dwarfing your form.
My beaming dream was you could speak in tongues,
That you would blink out words with your wet eyes
Or huff lamenting with your ancient love
You, magically contained by knitted lungs
Snored small rhythms to our paused and mulling lives.


This poem is dedicated to my Princesa, my dog, who recently passed away.

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