it gets run over by a van.
\nyou find it at the side of the road
\nand bury it.
\nyou feel bad about it.
\nyou feel bad personally,
\nbut you feel bad for your daughter
\nbecause it was her pet,
\nand she loved it so.
\nshe used to croon to it
\nand let it sleep in her bed.
\nyou write a poem about it.
\nyou call it a poem for your daughter,
\nabout the dog getting run over by a van
\nand how you looked after it,
\ntook it out into the woods
\nand buried it deep, deep,
\nand that poem turns out so good
\nyou’re almost glad the little dog
\nwas run over, or else you’d never
\nhave written that good poem.
\nthen you sit down to write
\na poem about writing a poem
\nabout the death of that dog,
\nbut while you’re writing you
\nhear a woman scream
\nyour name, your first name,
\nboth syllables,
\nand your heart stops.
\nafter a minute, you continue writing.
\nshe screams again.
\nyou wonder how long this can go on.<\/p>\n
Raymond Carver<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
it gets run over by a van. you find it at the side of the road and bury it. you feel bad about it. you feel bad personally, but you feel bad for your daughter because it was her pet, … Continue reading