Past Life
You killed my dog once.
Long ago, in a sullen wheat field
Your plow no doubt pushed the pup
Into the mud.
That must be so.
How else could I now feel so much?
For if this is not hate,
I shake at this thought of love.
If there is no shared history
How else can I know the taste of your breath
Having not yet met your lips?
You killed my dog once.
Long ago, in a sullen wheat field
Your plow no doubt pushed the pup
Into the mud.
That must be so.
How else could I now feel so much?
For if this is not hate,
I shake at this thought of love.
If there is no shared history
How else can I know the taste of your breath
Having not yet met your lips?