The Day My Dog Died
“Do you believe in God?”
Today was not the day to ask me.
I continued walking past the makeshift
homeless looking missionary. The sun
scorched my back. Nothing prepares
a child for the day she’ll grab
her wallet and roller blades, and take
the next bus downtown.
I worried for my brother. I left him at home
with a dead best friend and two parents. I
assumed, though, he made it to his middle
school friend’s house across the road.
I bought a hotdog from a food card
because chewing when anxious
never hurts, and often helps.
I wolfed it down and strapped on my
blades and rolled as fast as I could.
4 thoughts on "The Day My Dog Died"
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I want to expand this one a bit, but I kind of like the direction it’s going.
I like this, too, and would like to see where you’re thinking of expanding it! You do a great job setting the scene and creating a tension
I think –
… “I wolfed it down and strapped on my
blades and rolled as fast as I could.” …
Says everything that needs to be said. I love this poem.
Great hook to the poem!