When you saw me out in the pasture
covered in ticks and mange
folded me into your linen shirt
unbothered by my filth, and laid
kisses on my head, dirt
and dry grass on your lips—
you still brought me into the main house
and washed me in the sink
gingerly washed my wounds
set me in the barn, amongst the chickens
while you worked
covered in saw dust
even when I was mended but
no good for working
you still let me stay
no good for anything, really
You still let me stay.