Marley Bost


You should have ended it

When two summers came and went

 And the tree bore not a single leaf 


Or maybe 

when its bark began to grow brittle, 

and the trunk began to bald

Revealing the wood beneath 

Spongy and rotting 


But still, you paid it no mind


And still, the mangy dog returns

Every afternoon

Seeking shelter from the heat

Its gangling limbs, sprawled out in the shade 


And still, you sit by the window 

Watching as the dog gnaws at its cracked and blistering hide

Under a tree, riddled with rot, caving in on itself