Human Femur

There’s a funny looking stick

in the middle of the yard

that wasn’t there yesterday.

It reminds me of something

I’d rather forget,

so I think I’m gonna throw it away.

 

The very next morning,

the stick is still there,

and the dog is chewing away.

Happier than he’s been in a while,

so I’m faced with the truth, I’m afraid.

 

But, it just can’t be

what I think it is.

It’s about the right length,

and it’s round on the ends.

White and brown,

from the dirt where it’s been.

I just can’t admit that it’s him.

 

Because, I buried that bastard

about ten foot deep.

Six months since,

and never lost a wink of sleep.

Now. I’m sitting here,

wondering how far down

did that little dog dig?

 

He just lays there wagging,

chewing on that bone.

Got me wondering how many

my little dog’s brought home?

I guess I just might never know,

unless the law comes around.

I just hope that the rest of him

is still in the ground.

 

He was mean,

he was sick,

he would beat me with a stick,

until I got out the gun,

his tune changed real quick.

I put three bullets in him,

and never missed a lick.

Then, I put his mean ass

as deep as he’d fit.

 

Deep as I could dig,

but I guess not deep enough.

‘Cause I’m watching my

little white dog named, “Gus”,

just gnawing away,

with a smile and a wag.

Guess I’ll have to go

and get a garbage bag.

 

Sorry Gus,

but I gotta get rid of that thing.

Who knows what kind of trouble

it could bring.

 

 

HG – 2020

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