The Feeder of Strays.
Someone leaves chicken bones in the park among the nuggets of bark mulch. A splintery cooked bone can kill a dog. Mom is dead. Three months now. Four times a day, beneath the palms, Rebus and I follow the piss-tags along the paths. After dark we follow the Feeder of Strays. Rebus noses out the bones. I confiscate them and throw them away with the shit.
CHASE TWICHELL is the author of many books, including Horses Where the Answers Should Have Been: New & Selected Poems (Copper Canyon Press, 2010).
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|Title Annotation:||four poems|
|Publication:||The American Poetry Review|
|Date:||May 1, 2018|
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|Next Article:||Plain American.|