One morning a stray dog appears at my door

One morning a stray dog appears at my door…

His news is like wildfire on the inside
His eyes are like crushed flowers
Dante sings of Beatrice
How strange to be living
He also has a father unseen
Of course I feed him
Poignant
That pink tongue

Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by stevekuusisto