by Lauren Yates
The day she and her lover adopted a dying dog,
they chose a rhinestone collar. They painted his
toenails green, and ordered five sweaters online.
The second day the water bowl stayed full,
they did not call the vet. Instead, they argued
over names like “Ferdinand” and “Seymour,”
even though the dog had answered to Pixie.
When the newly unnamed dog began to shake,
the couple booked a photographer. It is never
too early to plan this year’s Christmas card.
Once the sleeping dog lost its bowels,
the girl and her lover raced to the post office
with the package they would no longer need.
As traffic thickened, she cut off the car that had
been trailing a hearse: “People need to learn how to
drive. Don’t they know we have someplace to be?”
About Lauren Yates
Lauren Yates is a San Diego transplant who is currently based in Philadelphia. Her poetry has appeared in FRiGG, Melusine, The Bakery, and The Legendary. Lauren is also a poetry editor at Kinfolks Quarterly. Aside from poetry, she enjoys belly dancing, baking quiche, and pontificating on the merits of tentacle erotica. For more information, visit http://laurentyates.com.