Sunday, August 12, 2018

My Mom’s New Dog. by John Grochalski



is a terrier mix
of some sort
he’s a little kick-me dog
but you have to feed him hot dogs
before you come into the house
otherwise he’ll rip your face off
my mom’s new dog
hates the postman with passion
even though he doesn’t receive
any junk mail or bills
yet he sits at the door barking and growling
like the postman is a cop
or a member of the GOP
sitting there with my hands smelling of hot dogs
while my mom’s new dog
sits on the floor and growls at me
i wonder what kind of shit
that mutt has really seen
gang violence or compassionate conservativism?
you see, my mom’s new dog
was shelter dog from kentucky
we imagine him having lived
in some opioid den with good americans
who only wanted
to make america great again
we know he’s been hit by a car
my mom’s new dog
loves kids and candy
and he’ll stop growling at me
at any moment i’m told
he just has to get used to you, my mom says
as her brand-new dog
keeps snarling at me from the floor
of her living room
while i sip a beer
and look at the coffee table
where the hot dog bag just sits there

fucking empty.





John Gochalski is a writer whose poetry has appeared in several online and print publications including:  Red Fez, Rusty Truck, Outsider Writers Collective, Underground Voices, The Lilliput Review, The Main Street Rag, Zygote In My Coffee, The Camel Saloon, and Bartleby Snopes.  He is also the author four books of poetry The Noose Doesn’t Get Any Looser After You Punch (Six Gallery Press, 2008), Glass City (Low Ghost Press, 2010), Starting with the Last Name Grochalski (Coleridge Street Press, 2014), and The Philosopher’s Ship (Alien Buddha Press, 2018).  I am also the author of the novels, The Librarian (Six Gallery Press, 2013) and Wine Clerk (Six Gallery Press, 2016)

1 comment:

  1. I like hotdogs when a strange man tells me to close my eyes and swallow them. I don't know why they need to blindfold me I guess it's too enhance the flavor. I would give this write 2 stars out of some other number ( I can't count). Call me baby!

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