mortality becomes a thing —

one imagines how the ravages of aging

will undo a person’s body, a person’s mind

but, a violent death in the winter of life!

I cannot conjure the pain, the fear, the horror

puppy trembles when we turn north —

he knows where we’re headed.

when Coco’s ordeal is over,

the vet gives us the thumbs-up.

once again, he’s our happy boy.

cajoling the last of it out of the tube

I deplore the wasting of anything

yet every light’s left on in the kitchen