Dusty tufts of straw spike: My dead dad’s dog Is mine Now. My father’s beloved pet. Teeth bared. He eyes his fate suspiciously. Licking our lips wet We both back away. Vicious gangs of muscle Roam your back I feel my own hackles hack. He loved you more than me, You know I know . My eye rests on your docked stub. Trembling. We both are altered by my father’s whim. This is the reality we have. We both will never be the king. Cold eyes thaw. Paw. We settle. To love each other in our loss of him
Eddie Malone is an ex-teacher who was born into an Irish family in Manchester. He lives in the countryside with his dogs (one a Jack Russell inherited from his dad, whose arrival is the subject of his poem Prince), Coco the cat and many forest demons.
Rough Diamond Poetry 