A particularly rough morning

The morning after, I woke up in the middle of the bed

There wasn’t 15 pounds anymore to push me to the edge

My circadian rhythm kicked in.

But no dog waiting to be fed

They gave me back your collar, along with a box of you.

My back slid down the fridge and

I allowed myself to cry on the kitchen floor

There was no one to lick my tears

No one to greet me at the door

I didn’t just lose my dog that day

I lost the last gift my father gave.