The dog scrabbles
in the lady’s arms,
tongue flopping every which way.
‘He’s only young’ she says
as a bark coarse as sandpaper
rips through the cabin.
A man with teeth
briquette-black
chuckles at us, at the mutt,
its hair like chestnut
paintbrush strokes
slapdash around the mouth.
The lift judders to a halt.
We go one way,
the dog goes the other.
Written: October 2016.
Explanation: To mark National Poetry Day on 6th October, I wrote 25 poems over the course of eight days, and sent one poem each to one of 25 of my Facebook friends. After some deliberation, I am now posting the poems on HP (in order of when they were written), albeit not all in one go. 'Firework' is poem one, for those of you who wish to read the series in full, in order. None of the poems are about their recipients. Note: Saltburn is a town in Yorkshire, England. All feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.
