Tuesday, October 22, 2013


photoart: ralph murre

by Donna Hilbert

I open the garage door
and our dog bounds free
across the street
disappearing down the alley,
her black form unmade
by the moonless night.
I panic, run in circles with the leash
but you calmly cross the street
calling her name.
Because she loves you
she lets you bring her home.

I won’t repeat the dream
in which you leave me.
Let’s just say I know the world,
how it alters in an instant,
that I awaken sick
in remorse and dread.
I can’t face again the dinners
with other lonely women,
then late-night TV
until the dog and I can bear
to go to bed.

I don’t need again to learn
the bitter lesson
that everything I love
is a flame between two fingers.

~ first published in Beggars & Cheeseburgers