The dog dug
up an iris
bed
Her snout
was a shovel
She squirmed
in heat
of life
i saw
melt
in sheets
of ice
I saw
these eyes
catch rest
upon the dirt
they grew in
As she lay
down before
dying
eyes holding
the litter
of thirst
by all life
she kills
all that
squeezes
out of her
It is pouring
back into
the pupil
of nothing
-Patrick Maloney