The Friend

The Friend I dislike morbidity the end of the world prophets, yet there was a knock on my door, they were clearing boulders from the field where I had buried my dog between to big rocks, opened the bag a black bin liner she was there ok, white bones and This was a perfect Hamlet moment, but I’m not Yurok and to use her head as a desk ornament was not on. There are no secrets in a hamlet, they knew the dog remains belonged to me and I left the bag in the shed till my wife discovered it. For the time being the dog’s bones are in the back of my car, when driving I often see her face in the back mirror, she wants closure. What we had is memories something of no consequence the love we shared, the flash when dog and man are in harmony