Dog Poem


By Juanita Rey

I have a dog.
He whines for walks,
for me to toss a ball
so he can fetch.
He doesn’t beg for sex
or sympathy
like the guy he replaced.
Being needed has taken
a turn for the better.

“I write because it helps me to understand my life in this new country.” – the poet

The Canine Standoff

By Archibald Hobbs

After your wagging tail, ferocious and soaring; after your melancholy eyes, precocious and adoring; after you offered me your tummy to rub, cheeky and fun-loving; after you scammed me for extra treats; greedy and heart-tugging; after you snuggled against me on cold nights; dutiful and warming; and after you welcomed me home; beautiful and swarming; after all that; I will smile the brightest when I remember you hiding behind our big oak tree, your defiant eyes locked with mine, every time I fetched your leash for a walk.

Archie writes primarily to impress his wife, but would not object a wider audience.

Pillow Talk


By Robert Runte

Proper nouns went first. I did not miss them, because context always carries us through. And pointing substitutes for common nouns, and mime for verbs; and adjectives are but color commentary that one can do as easily without. You could lose all the words, and I would love you still.

I love our wordless dog.

It’s the repetition. Having to answer the same question twelve times an hour.

Worse: your questioning some ancient memory best forgotten, unrelenting. No Old Age Home for you: some questions must not be asked in front of others. Has to, then, be the pillow.

Robert Runté is mostly known as an editor and critic of Canadian speculative fiction, but has lately tried his hand at other genres. He is currently focusing on micro and flash fiction.

Dogs, Looking Up


By Kendall Jaderberg

I noticed my dog look up.
why was this act so unnatural?
There wasn’t a squirrel in the trees.
Why had he been so intrigued?

He plays from a box of actions,
motivations of which not earth shattering.
But a glimpse to the sky, leaves me questioning-
Why? This says too much about me.

I envied his joyous observation,
the self-made scientist in this family.
Where he spotted this opportunity,
I failed my curiosity.

This set in motion unexpected passion,
not knowing where my notes would lead.
I tested and believed I’d emptied,
a theory disproved by this story’s ending.

Kendall Jaderberg is an Analytical Chemist for a flavor company, where donuts abound. She enjoys bitter Chicago winters with her corgi mix and crafting poetry in her head while running on the treadmill. She has only tripped once and blames the donuts, not the poems.