(google images)

An open door to a closet,
carpeted with dozens of puppies
of different breeds.
Momma Dog, part Irish Setter,
hemorraghing on the dull wood floor
She tries not to call attention
to herself

I see  the blood,
tell the others at the party
about Momma Dog in need

Two of us carry her to the car–
she grows in size and gauntness as we do–
a bony frame
She turns to me with a knowing look
Angela’s Ashes dog
long-suffering Momma

Where is Doggie Dad?

At the hospital–
not sure if they can fix her
what will become of
the puppies in the closet
of assorted breeds?

Why are they in the closet?

Oh, it’s only a dream.