Empty Dog Crate

Gillian Fletcher

There is a vacant home

Sitting in the garage.

A well-loved pillow,

Permanently indented by years of furry weight.

Still preserved amidst a sea of clutter,

A memory too painful to donate to the shelter,

As there would be a hole in the house.

Years of opening,

closing,

coming in,

going out

Left the door creaky with age.

Once on dad’s “to fix” list,

It is now irrelevant.