Some poems are not triumphant or ennobling and still manage to strike the heart. This is one such. It is from the New Yorker (Jan 17, 2011).
Different Dogs
I’m sitting here with this bony Doberman
atop a stinky knoll back of the Oklahoma
City Animal Shelter. I make sure to walk
the wretched ones. The others barked
raucously as she
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