a burial

A Burial


My dog lay on the backseat dripping blood
my wife worried about the seat, I screamed
to her to “fuck off”; rain obscure my mind
I have known my dog for fifteen years.

Stopped at a supermarket, bought a black bin
liner, to get the dog into it was hard work, she
was unyielding and suddenly so very heavy
and I had her blood on my hands.

I borrowed a spade from a farmer, dug a hole,
ground stony, it took time and I couldn’t see
for rain; when the hole was big enough it was
also full of mud as First World War trench

I put her into the grave anyway and filled it
with stones wouldn’t like other animals to
find and eat her. Sappy crap you may say, but
we had been together for fifteen years.