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Black Dog
Here he comes, padding across the surface of your mind at the first sniff of sadness. He weighs a ton. Looks at you with those post-Hiroshima eyes until the silent howl of him sinks deep into your gut. What does he want?
You feed him all the hurts you’ve got He can’t get enough of it, love, love. He wants his mammy. He wants to be back in the womb with his paws over his eyes. He wants. He wants.
Poor black dog with the wildness trapped in him and nowhere to go. Toss him your funny bone, let him gnaw on that.
Diana Hendry
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