Member Poem

Muddy pawprints in the flooring
you poured your tears into without thought
remind me of
your hatred of all things brown
and tasteless.

You would have loved the way the dog 
predicted our destiny
in those pawprints,
like intellectuals lost in thought at the witching hour
struggling to display their work for posterity,
no one will see the poems they wrote 
within the four stars and crescent moon
repeated ad nauseam.

Washed away with them
will be the byways of our past
when I was happy
and you were content
and at that point
that was enough.