Written by: Simmy Lee

Your short shaggy stumps 
That graze the ground
Of dead leaves and dirt
Your wet, black snout that smothers the soil with smell
Your empty eyes that dart from where your first patch of paw leads, 
And the last follows
Your contained existence
From here to there
And back again
What else have you?
This moment’s piss,
That last moment’s slumber
The thoughtless then and now dance you do
Without consideration for what the final performance may look like
And it looks like nothing
Except for all your futile nows
That you execute with reflexive precision
Your hind leg in the air
Your hollow pug face stare
Your undiscerning bladder flows 
On some beckoning bark
Then you trot off
In circles
Much like me,
Coming and pissing and leaving
From tree to tree