Sunday, November 3, 2013

Chalkboard Tombstone



Drew a dog in chalk
That came to life
Except it had no paws
He minced about on the tender
Stubs of his legs
Followed me as I trekked across
The black slate badlands
Tongue dissolving when it lapped at a puddle
Of rainwater collected in the earth’s
Stony socket
Poor thing got bit
By a chalk drawing of a raccoon
And ran off
Frothy scribbles bubbling from his lips
I followed his powdery tracks 
Across the wilderness
Armed with a 12 gauge double-barreled
Felted eraser
And a horsehair brush 
To sweep away the dust

1 comment:

  1. I experienced immediate affection for this poem while reading it.

    uncle frank

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