Dinosaur
His name is Buddy
An anachronistic depiction
Of a monstrous predator
That lived 65 millions years ago.
My son has chewed off his tail
And filed his fangs with his teeth.
Thus maimed must the king of dinosaurs
Remain.
Upright. Broken.
Immortalized in plastic.
Perhaps they will put our bones together
And mount us in museums.
How will we look to alien eyes?
I lack the imagination
To offer any further speculation.
...
The Dog
Shut your goddamn mouth,
You old goat.
Somehow you still live
Despite all the plastic gloves you've eaten.
I promise I won't stuff you
And sit you on the mantle
Like a piece of game.
When you die, I'll bury you
In the orchard
Where you can finally get at the moles
Tunneling underground.
...
The River
Floating couches
go by on your swift currents.
I imagine fish struggle to breath
In your muddied depths.
When you give our refuse back to us,
We throw it right back.
We can do nothing but take from you.
I'm sorry.
Think of us as an aberration.
A momentary blight on the surface
of the earth.
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