Door Stop							

My dog lies like a slug 
outside the screened door,
pondering. He's fixing to eat breakfast. 
He's going to catch him a rabbit, 
the big one out by the garden patch.

He stretches and looks at his watch, 
thinks better of it, rolls over on his back, 
the rabbit fading out of memory,
eventually sequestered in the closet, 
a pinhead eternity.

All this excitement coming before noon, 
buttoned away, not so much as a woof 
of his own, ignominious,
slouching back to puppy reality, 
still blocking the doorway.

(First published in Minute Magazine - 2019)

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