ghosts.

[loonylupinlover]

these hands are scarred
with the echoes of creatures past
thin white lines demarcating memory.

methuselah cat
a propped-up sack of sticks and fur
muscles wasted, devoured
claws propelled by deranged will
instead of physical strength.
surprisingly this old man is still fanged
he refuses to surrender.

zigzag bite marks ring the wrist
red-white dots in patterns.

big happy-dumb dog
all bounds and joyful barks
last week he lay near death.
this week he is a cart horse
sent to find a home
and the ground he runs is hard.
this week his joy devolves
and a heady terror, a ragged fear,
emerges in a snarl and a pulled-taut jowl.

knee still rippled and dimpled
with dark dotted scabs
still slowly healing.

bodies cold and knotted in forgiving plastic now
kennels sterilized and new again
bedding washed, restored.
no evidence left remaining

except scars seared into flesh.

a lasting
memorial.