The dog in the corner

The photo slipped, caught the light—

a brittle flash on the linoleum.

Your fur, a ragged shadow in the yellowed frame,

tongue lolling in a grin I can still hear.

The fridge hums, oblivious to the weight

of all the quiet years you stretched behind me.

I crouch, lift you from the floor, edges curling,

remember that corner where you’d watch the door,

waiting for a step that never came.

The room is too empty without your breath

just at the edge of the kitchen’s hum,

the dog in the corner,

still waiting.