Duck

Duck has been around eight years.
We call her “Baby” though.
A stuffed duck with a broken neck.
No longer squeaks. Ratty fake fur.
One eye.
We figured out seven years ago 
It would be wise to purchase a spare duck.
We purchased two of them. Exact replicas.
The dog will have nothing to do with either.
When she loses Duck for weeks, we try, to no avail.
Duck is her baby. 
When we say “where is your baby?” she brings Duck.
Like a toddler, this dog.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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Ravidas Avatar
July 21, 2019 at 3:10 PM
Nice dog and nice poetry, Caren. P.S.: I wonder what happens if you say “where is your Duck?”. Will she bring a baby? Nice doggy, good dog)
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