Dog Rain

A quick shake, right beside me,

a plume of fine, cold spray.

And then the smell, immediate, free,

pushing the afternoon away.

Earthy, damp fur, a little sour, deep,

a raw, animal tang that cut the air.

It hits hard, the secrets bodies keep,

a sudden, visceral, sharp despair.

The dog trotted on, dark fur matted, wet,

dripping small drops onto the gray pavement.

And I just stood there, still smelling it,

the memory, a brutal testament.