Although he buried it raw
hours ago, Dog looks at
me with pity--I've forgotten,
and will surely demur.
He sits in front of the oven,
where a rather large
piece of cow is
slowly roasting to a
heart-breaking tenderness.
You buried it, remember?
Looking down, I encounter
a pitying pair of
dark, doleful eyes.
Of course, he will relish
my gasp when, after
waiting all winter for
the bone to cure,
he pulls what looks like
a human femur--marbled
with brown and oozing
marrow--from the mud.
(c) 2014, by Hannah Six
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