Another Poem for Lyntl

Today remains Friday, whatever the hell day it is.

and i've writ another poem.

"Poem upon the death of our Dog, Lyntl”

It’s 1.19am, and

It’s 4.44am, the next morning,
And I’m editing your poem

I’ve turned on all the lights in the house,

As if that beacon will bring you back alive.

As if that beacon, might bring you back alive.

From your death yesterday.

I’ve looked in the frig, at the last meal,
That you couldn’t eat, remains
Uneaten.

I’ve looked again in the frig, at
Your Last Meal Not,

See how much I love yo;u:
Even grammar
My oldest, trusted friend
Next to you
deserts me.

in you honour.

In your honour.

I “did the deed” myself.
Helped by the vet’s steady hand
I gave you the final
“mercy Shot”
Myself,

Everything you’ve given me,
Life, Love, Hope,
The Least I could do.

And you live,
In the eyes of your sister Weimaraner,
The poet Shelley,
Who into my eyes looks,
With puzzled loss,
And says,
As Stephen Spender said,
In a greater poem than this
“Is it all we have?”