Stray Dogs
I.
My friend explained to me that she had known
A stray with matted hair and fearful eyes.
A shaky mutt that under lock had grown
Until his loveless owner severed ties
And so released his soul unto the street,
The narrow alleyway, cement and steel,
The garbage bin to be his feast to eat,
Estranged to how a heart is meant to feel.
Are you the type to blame him for a growl?
And will you have him put down when he bites?
The world, I’ve found, will never quite allow
A beaten dog to show his beaten nights.
I hope that, for a moment, he felt peace
Before the euthanasia cut his leash.
II.
Just give me the chance and I’ll bolt—
Loosen that chain you’ve fastened around my neck,
That weight you’ve placed upon my chest,
And just watch
How I go the distance.
Oh, potential,
Oh, freedom of motion,
Oh, boundless, endless sky,
Let me stir up a sandstorm
With the kick of my stride.
Thomas Golladay is a sophomore English major at St. Mary’s College of Maryland. A burgeoning poet from small town, rural Maryland, The Albion Review is his first publication. Aside from poetry, he also loves songwriting and fiction writing.
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