A pack of dogs

a pack of dogs
salivating across the street
tongues wagging in frothy mouths
about how you made them groan
when you walked away

looked hard but
never saw you
never carried groceries for your grandmother
never held the door open for your mother
or brought you bouquets of dandelions

they buzzed around my ear
like summer bees
asking for directions
so they could make honey
from your flower

but never saw their sister
in your eyes, your smile, your laughter
never listened to you hum a tune
while hanging laundry in the backyard
never listened to your poetry
when you said grace

those other boys
would drop their heads
when your daddy came around
and never said, “good morning, sir.”
Or “good morning” to you, for that matter.

©05.22.2017