our dog Pal
lived in a well pit
in the basement
of our house

he was so black
in his cement cave
only sad yellow eyes
were visible

during the day
Pal stayed outside
chained next to a pear tree
on a rusty metal
clothespole with cracked
plastic lines

he'd run back
and forth chasing invisible
critters or leaves
while knocking
scented petals
from the tree

one night the plastic
line snapped
Pal broke free
of the clothespole
ran to the road
was hit by a black buick

Dad carried him
back to the well pit
we could not
afford to take Pal
to a vet

the next evening
Pal was chained
to the old clothespole
he rested quietly
on damp grass

I sat at a screened
window as a crimson
sun set
one shot, one whimper

Judy L. Brekke