The Dog, Gone

Like a fly upon the wall

my status far from clear,

a-waiting an a-whistled call

with anxious, pinned-back ears;

the chance to walk, or fetch a ball,

small things that so endeared-

me to your heart, God-damn it all

have all but disappeared.

Invisible, dismissible, impalpably I crawl,

wishing somehow you might hear,

perceiving my paw-fall.

And pat this head, or drop a tear -

for friendship unresolved.