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Chihuahua by Mary Winters

Chihuahua

by Mary Winters


She of the overlong kisses and fat arms

is gone—though I loved her.

I’ll miss her orange blossom scent.

The silly things she crocheted for me.

The way the phone excited her.

The day she snuck me in Mass.


Her son is a singer—a shouter!

Calls me to watch the “doggy position”

(which I made up with Toinette).

On the street they laugh: “a rat

on a leash”—they mistake me

for a dachshund, I am fatter.

They say let’s see the Mexican

hat dance; aren’t you afraid

his eyes will pop out?

He strokes my ears flat

—I lick the plates.


In summer we sleep together

on the fire escape with her dying

house plants. Fan and a radio

on the sill. Paradise the smell

from the shishkebob wagon; to bark

at the cops while he scratches my thighs.





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