The elastic crest of sunlight
arced across the bog, crippled
by drought, the alabaster bones
of the family dog revealed
through the cracks of dried mud,
like a reminder that as dinosaurs
once ruled this land, so did Dusty,
a golden retriever with a brain
the size of a T. Rex’s and a body
just as forgotten, just as cold.
Ryan W. Bradley has fronted a punk band, done construction in the Arctic Circle, and now manages an independent children's bookstore. He received his MFA from Pacific University and his poetry has been published or is forthcoming in a myriad of journals including The Oregonian, Third Wednesday, Sir! Magazine, and PANK. He lives in Southern Oregon with his wife and two sons, and blogs at ryanwbradley.blogspot.com