The Things They Left Behind
They left the silence of a fuzzy slipper squeaky toy
with tattered bunny ears.
They left puzzle bowls and puppy pads,
only half a sleeve.
They left a pink leash with gray bones,
skating down its length, and
the ache that’s an empty orthopedic pad.
They left a barely used bottle of
Burt’s Bees animal anti-itch, and
a pearl studded choker, overstretched.
They left a sack of Foster Squad waste bags,
and a broken Furminator that left the
long bronze hairs burrowed in the sofa.
They left an I Love Me Some Bitches jacket and a
Dogs over Dudes t-shirt, collars cut out.
They left Adopt Me bandannas, yellow, green and blue.
They left the pain that’s a dried chunk of Pill Pocket,
caught under the cabinet’s depths, me, they left me,
and a single tiny baby tooth.
Kelley Swan splits her time between a life nestled in the mountains in New Hampshire and the mangroves of Florida. A menagerie of animals, both adopted and fostered, make her every day a worthwhile adventure. A writer and poet, she’s also studying creative writing at the University of Central Florida.