Can’t Spit Out This Bone

This bone in my throat was the bone the dog buried in my chest. I can’t keep it down. It rises and chokes me up. I can’t breathe.

The waiter pounds me on the back.

I spit out the nights the dog slept next to me. Kept me warm. Kept me covered in hair that still won’t come off my pajamas.

I spit out dog tongue in my ears, nose, and mouth. That dog covered me with kisses.

I spit out the night I thought you were taking him on a walk. No, you were walking away.

You didn’t even take his food. Or this bone.

The bone is still stuck in my throat.

published in Scuzzbucket