dog arched into a beautiful vase, trembling dog staring at me through the shower glass as his cataracts fog. he jumps as i lift him up onto our bed. we slow dance while my grandpapa sings. my mother says “What is this? What is this love?” and once more i’ve been loved for the last time.
émilie kneifel collects lost teeth at emiliekneifel.com
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan