Dogs in the House
Did we bring it home with us?
Could we have stopped that strange dog from
slipping into her skin—
whimper lost at lunch
junkyard mean by dinner?
Were we the cause of the sadness?
It was everywhere:
the communion wafer,
Mike’s porn stash in the basement,
“Here Comes the Sun”
the only song you could play on guitar,
believing you could telepathically alter the TV.
Screaming mad, wild, every time you told me
I was named for a dead dog floating out to sea.
Published online July 28 2018.
Shannon Quinn lives in Toronto. She recently finished an interdisciplinary resi- dency at Hospitalfield House in Scotland. Her first collection of poetry, Questions for Wolf, was published by Thistledown Press. Her second collection, Nightlight for Children of Insomniacs, will be published by Mansfield Press in Spring 2018.