Darcy Smith

Dog Flowers

I can’t bring her back,
can’t outrun this snarling

hound, his hungry
snap won’t stop

my missing,
can’t mend this gashing,

can't bring her home,
can’t brush her hair.

Why bother with fresh-cut
flowers everywhere?

These petals fester
past forever, past barking,

past wilting, past flooding
blood lilies churning

bouquets in every room
can’t fix her days are

never

throw them out, don’t––
touch her

flowers. Don’t.
Don’t you see?

We all turn
a shade of red.

Shared with permission from Smith’s River Skin. Please visit www.darcysmith.org for more information.



About the Author

Darcy Smith’s debut collection, River Skin, Fernwood Press June 2022 was a semifinalist for the 2020 Hillary Gravendyk Prize. Her poems have appeared in numerous publications including Grub Street, Two Thirds North, River Heron Review and Anti-Heroin Chic. Smith is a Pushcart nominee, Certified Sign Language Interpreter, Buddhist, kickboxer, wife and mother. She lives with her husband and their cat, Miley in New York’s Hudson Valley. For more information visit www.darcysmith.org.

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