Sabina
The last scratch behind
Her ear, to the place a lame
Leg can reach no more.
Furious I scratch
To give some peace where lame legs
Try, in hope, to reach,
Twitching in old age
Like in her puppy dreamtime
When her sleeping legs
Would chase the rabbits
Hungry in the desert hills
For prickly pear seeds:
But now she rolls on her side releasing a sigh
Faint, resigned, perhaps ready for goodbye.
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