Flattened

Robert is a senior transfer student at Aurora University. He's a lover of writing, language, and nature with a drive for storytelling, but he also spends a lot of time playing with his many, many foster dogs. He hopes to write professionally as a published author in the future.

My body ices over.

There, under my shoe, 

is not dirt. 

Before my weight can crush it,  

I pick up my foot 

and gaze at your innocent life there. 

​

I take you home to one of the many duplicates, 

unique because mine is the only white house on the block. 

You are tiny,  

wrapped in my sweatshirt

cradled as I walk home. 

​

I watch you in the plastic tub 

as you twitch your long brown ears 

and I blindly feed you grass. 

I think I named you “Bugs” 

but I don’t remember. 

​

My own mother told me  

“it’s been taken care of” 

and I don’t see you again.  

I’m told not to worry, 

but thinking back, I know 

if you weren’t alone 

without your mother 

you would have run. 

The construction was completed in Fall of 2008.