MUSED Literary Magazine.
Poetry

Misty

Isabelle Kenyon

I stroke the fur in between your charcoal pawpads
and kiss you in between the eyes,
Where over years you’ve grown white, sloped brows,
A dappled beauty.
You snuggle in close, pointed snout under chin:
I can hear your muffled intake of breath,
Feel it tickle my arm,
Reassuringly warm.

You judder- I know you’re ill and fighting -
There is no closer bond than a 16-year-old friendship,
No greater love than your ears dipped,
Wide, misty eyes sparkling happy up at me.