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The Stray -- poetry by Savannah Jackson

The dog came

in September.

Yellowish,

he limped to where

I stood

at the end of the driveway.

His underside was stained

dark like wine

where dried blood

caked a gash.

I brought home a book

from the school library–

Dog Dictionary–

later to be jammed in a box

& into the car

to which we would be led

by our shaking mother.

She didn’t say anything,

but I knew we didn’t

live there anymore.

I knew we’d never

see that dog again.

We unpacked the car

in the dark,

sulked up Nana’s stairs

in the moonlight

with our beaten boxes.



 

Savannah Jackson is a 17 year old senior who has lived in more small Iowa towns than she can count. Two years ago she moved to the real middle of nowhere where she currently lives in a house surrounded by miles of corn. She's learned about life out there and how different rural people are from townies and people in the city. She was nominated as an honorable mention in the Nancy Thorp poetry contest out of Hollins University this year.

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