Joseph Veronneau, 04/12

Inside the mouth
of the alligator
a nameless bird
pecks away carelessly
pleasure abound
as if to call this danger
to make a flirtation
with its newly found
protecting itself
against the sun
burning away at feathers
Alone in the fall
a doomed rottweiler
scurries off
deeper and deeper
into the rust color
that still holds tight
to its coat
struggling to die somewhere
in an unknown corner
far beyond territorial markings
where others will sniff
and decide its appropriateness
for a leg-lifting


All day I checked my  pockets
a re-wrapped lollipop,
fifty-five cents in change,
a prayer card to St. Anthony.

These small things an honor
for a  nine-year-old.

Laying down after exhaustion
of summer heat
of all  of the backyards shuffled through
I’d collapse on the floor,
let the mind  guide me off into

someplace even warmer.
World, wait  for me,
don’t do a thing
until I wake back  up.

Promote. Poetry.
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