Into Rack and Ruin and Tumbling


Into Rack and Ruin and Tumbling

You could fall forever into his eyes.

Into rack and ruin and tumbling.
Not a man. No Lothario. That dog.

A best friend with a dog-eared smile
makes life easily complete. He’s there,

looking in – at a pile of bones picked
very clean. But a bone is a bone

whether it’s picked or not, so he
waits. Shoulders and breath, rooted
in snowy fields. Waits. Throat, chin,

and eyebrows frosted in white hair.
Pick a bone with me, he smiles –

Those eyes you could forever fall into.




Written to Margo’s prompt: Ruin 
Photo (c) C. Gunther The Kitchens Garden
and the dog’s name is Tonton



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