Glass Poetry Press

Volume Six Issue One

Emily Palmisano

Strange Dog Says Hello

I had forgotten the size — the smell of a dog, that uncensored impropriety sniffing out secrets of human genitalia, testicles dangling in full view; Forgotten the exactness of the fur between shoulder blades, dense hairs standing on end with brackish pond water or smeared goose feces, old nose tipped white, pink tongue expelled in exhaustion. I had forgotten the number of sticks that are thrown, and then chased, or not — driftwood dots darkening water, ripples the smooth reflection of gathering clouds as I walk by.