Obligatory Rainbows Sprawled out on our cold bathroom floor there lies A dog whose life is coming to a close. His legs are numb; he’s blind and surely knows The end is nigh. And yet, for now, he tries. So, with the wall to guide his shaking gait He wobbles to the kitchen for a drink. If he’s in pain it doesn’t show. I think He’ll live a few months more. And so, I’ll wait And see how long we can delay the end, Extend our time, repay this loyal pet, Delay the dreaded trip home from the vet Without our ever-present furry friend. What self-inflicted torture we embrace, To love when death’s the end we have to face.
Again With the Beach We'll travel to the beach again, To burn and blister damaged skin, Inviting sand between our toes, To infiltrate our bags and clothes – The lasting signs of where we've been. So here I am to my chagrin, The torture shortly to begin, The dread sustained since she proposed We'll travel. Why'd we return? I couldn't win! Though I protested loudly, then Gave in too quickly I suppose, And that is how she always knows We'll travel.
Randal A. Burd, Jr. is an educator and editor of Sparks of Calliope. He received his M.Ed. from the University of Missouri. His latest poetry collection, Memoirs of a Witness Tree (Kelsay Books, 2020), is available from Amazon.com. Follow him on Twitter: @colonelrandal.