they told us that,
brutalised on the
track,
he’d be no good
with kids
a whippet who loved
children
at any rate me
would run after me
down the slope
toward the railway
missing the
sinkholes
as they had missed
the coal
and one day
comforting
blithe as a
roundelay
nudged me into a
bush
beyond which lay
death
he was put to sleep
so we could escape
to
Australia.
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