Personifying it

by Chris Buchanan

Poetry, 2022

They said six to eight weeks

and I thought you’d be pissing yourself with that, loving it, pissing deep down his lungs and into his flat red chest

but obviously not. You did it in four

you were just rinsing harder,

as if you needed a masterpiece

It’s inhuman what you did to him.

Big Dog Gone

by Chris Buchanan
Poetry, 2016

Where’s Big Dog gone?
Up? He was always tall,
Must be up
in the clouds
on the roof
somewhere?
Now there’s no-one left
bigger than me.

So long old feller.
Maybe he can hear me-
can you hear me
old yeller?
Alpha, papa, omega, dada,
Our Father,
man in the moon yeah,
what do we do now Pops?

Pop pop
pop.