Monday, June 27, 2016

The Death of Roscoe

I look at him
He looks at me
I cry.

By the refrigerator
I watch him
He waits
He sits by me. 
He lies on me
His heart has a tiny beat
His tail is is tapping
I touch his bumpy spine
I say I love you
His eyes squint a little
He sleeps
He staggers a little

I look at him
He looks at me

I cry.