Today's poem is by Craig Morgan Teicher

A Cure for Dead Dogs
                                        ... as if weather were a cure for childhood.
                                                                                          —Bin Ramke

As if time were a cure. As if all things
pass, this too shall pass were a cure
for time, the time it takes, time enough,

a little more time. As if waking
with a taste in your mouth
were a cure for childhood, a sweaty

sweaty dream, a monster, an
angel in the closet, under the bed
were a cure for a ghost. As if

a thing lost or forgotten, discarded,
fled, written down and revised, revisited
were a cure for dead dogs, dogs

put to sleep, put down, put out of mind,
put that way were a cure for the facts.

As if this were a cure for that.

As if what happened, events as told, as tell
about the teller were a cure for
what ails, what finally ends, what time

has taken its toll on. As if what can be
hoped for, what works, what heals
were a cure. As if a cure were needed.

Copyright © 2008 Craig Morgan Teicher All rights reserved
from Brenda Is in the Room and Other Poems
Center for Literary Publishing
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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