Ditch Dog

That dog is metaphor heading west. That dog in the sandy ditch forty miles from Albuquerque is a smoldering secret you’ve kept too long or maybe four legs of scruffy calico-lipped doubt dragging its tail through your brain, or thirst on four legs, desire on three, truth on two, a shaggy sundial, a pioneer of desire, a ghost of hope. That dog licks, is licked. That dog is a dead husband chasing his carefree wife who’s moving to Arizona, or a trotting beast of broken days, or what’s left after love. That dog knows the meaning of amen. Amen.

Photo Credit: Bala Sivakumar (image cropped from the original)