by Gary S. Rosin

If you had not turned
away from the usual,
you would not have found

what was left of this pet,
lying beside the road.

Flesh mostly gone,
melted into the ground,
claimed by rat or bird,

now this tangle of fur
covers only ants, worms.

Slices of spine dry,
unblinking into stares.
Ribs no longer close.

The bones of one back leg,
scattered by some meal.

Claws of the other
clutch at the ground, but hold
only blades of grass.

Somehow bone and sinew
still stretch into a tail,

curl a question.

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Text and Photograph, Copyright © 2005 by Gary S. Rosin