TO A FRIEND
by Mark Head
When tomorrow lies in state like a blanket on the past and today is smothered in fog
Enter a leash.
A muffled command ‘—not here’
A jerk. A straining. A whine or two
Enter. The dog.
Snuffling about other peoples garbage cans and spent roses
That keen knower of other folk’s olfactories
Yesterday’s kipper- quite nice
The low whine from uncooked onion rings discovered
The blissful offcut from week old young steak streaked with flies
A present reality awaiting a part, a morsel or two from yesterday’s table to the fortunate few
Lives for the present and alive for tomorrows entertainment
And when he farts,