the dead
are dead”
hushed but
busted wide
with want
that Jim
still begging
for one
last go
and Francie
so starved
she’s throwing
down fries
just minutes
before closing
those eyes
of hers
and the
dog’s ball
was buried
last fall
but what
a shedder
she was
that pup
this one
time gobbling
up chocolates
with franks
poor girl
nearly died
then but
didn’t so
look
the sun
it’s white
the wind
it’s up
the bits
of straw
skitter across
granite and
grass these
rose petals
dying, yes,
but still
so fragrant
nonetheless
ruminationville 
I really like this poem. I had to reread it several times which for me is the mark of a good poem–it makes one think! I got to those last five ironic lines and caught my breath. So good. I say ironic because the poem moves quickly almost frantically…Jim’s “begging” and Frankie “throwing down fries” and then suddenly one is brought to a standstill with the fragrance (great word) of the rose petals. I’m not a poet, but I love poetry. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read my most recent poem (several times!) and for commenting on it. Your good opinion means a lot to me. Leslie