Walking, Ruminating

How the dogs these days
are slicked with rain, belt

area combed neat to gentle
bowels exposed, smashed cap

of mint icebreakers,
even the sycamore leaves

are leftover—everyone’s leftover
and I am over being left,

the unfinished yard projects
how we are all unfinished

and now I’m thinking that the dead dog

could have been a coyote,
which explains the

grieving.

Allie Rigby is a San Francisco Bay Area poet and educator with roots in the chaparral of southern California. Her writing is featured in Manzano Mountain Review, Parenthesis Journal, Postscript Magazine, Visitant Lit, Living on Earth Radio, and more. She was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Currently, Rigby is pursuing an MA in English: Creative Writing at San Francisco State University. When not reading for class, she teaches elementary students.

Artwork by Myriam Louise Taleb