June 1, 2011

Paul David Adkins

WAR STORY #133: HELICOPTER RIDE WITH CADAVER DOG

It was hot on the chopper.
On top of that,
a cadaver dog sat
big as Sunday
beside me.

He stared out the glass.
His tongue unrolled
like a carpet.
The handler stroked his ear.

Well heeled,
this dog.

I laughed.

What I wouldn’t give
for an open window.

The dog leaning into
ninety-knot breeze,
barking.

Barking his fool head off.

from Rattle #34, Winter 2010

__________

Paul David Adkins: “In a helicopter I dwell on death, no matter the level of danger. I consider off-color distractions to relax. This pooch’s presence was perfect. A body-detecting machine transformed for a minute to a mutt I could play with, toss a ball. Its only tricks—roll over, shake hands, play dead.”

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