LETTING GO
by Dianne Moritz

Do you spit out words
as you might a bite of bruised apple?
Do you say: Today my dog died?  
Do you tell how you watched the light
fade from her soulful eyes,
nothing left but bones and soft fur?
Should you mention you cried out,
wanting to **** the messenger?  
Oh, how this longing hurts, sometimes
believing, hoping she will amble back
home, tail thumping, cold nose pressed
against your lonely hand....