Time and a Dog

All right we can't repeat the past
don't want to bones are in the grass
time and a dog regard them mildly
sniff and pass on to other piles
what's round the bend is entre nous
mon ancien amour mon âme I'm through
with dies irae through with twirping
on about the mess the bird
has turned the dog has yapped the heart
has swollen in the cage and partly
mooned it's almost full it's time
to wash the hands and look sublime.

Copyright © 2002 Sidney Wade All rights reserved
from The Paris Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission