Thursday, July 31, 2014

in the last patch of snow

I look at this photograph
for hours, a white dog
in the last patch of snow,
in the background
the shadow of a laundry string
on the whitewashed wall
of a yard house, someone
must be living here,
the laundry is still damp
and out, dripping
into knee high grass, hosting
the night’s leftover dreams
a white peacock stretching feathers
someone walked away
the door slightly open
I see a chair, fallen over
a pair of shoes, something
lifeless and the dog
in the snow keeps waiting
for someone to leave traces
to find some thing odd
at this time of the year
when dusk and dawn
are one and the lanterns
stay on all day long