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Prophylactic Poetry

This morning I straightened the shoes in the front hall and said to the dog, the most attentive member of the family, "I'd do it all again–/marry the man, carry the sons. I'd eat/ the whole McIntosh, seeds and all."* She sighed and sank to the f loor, waiting for the rest of the poem or perhaps completing it herself in dog-speak. Surely she could. She's heard it and half a dozen others often enough as I struggled to memorize…
Christine MacLean
October 1, 2011