The Bulldog
       

I woke up transformed into a bulldog.
                    I had human thoughts, but could only bark.
      I was confused, but at the same time fascinated.
                    I was a bulldog, but I lived by principle.

I didn't have an owner. I was in a cage with mutts.
                    I wasn't going to beg when humans visited.
      I didn't mind the cage. I did, however, fear execution.
                    One day, a child came and whispered,

You are a great dog, you are a great dog.
                    I felt great. No one took me home, though.
      They threw me out to the street.
                    I was spared execution only by God's grace.

The streets were alive. I thrived.
                    I lived without fear or hunger for three years.
      Then I was run over by a speeding motorcyclist.
                    I didn't have the proper funeral I deserved.

May I rest in peace.

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Copyright © 2017 José Hernández Díaz All rights reserved
from Green Mountains Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission