Whenever I play the blues, the coonhound across the road starts howling.
The fact that he’s called Duke & I’m not into jazz is of no significance.
Even with the volume low he picks up the vibrations & wails for losses he can not understand.
If I could trace raccoon scent, I’d lay
Ruth is the admin person for a research team at the Dunedin School of Medicine in New Zealand. Her poems have been published in literary journals, anthologies, and ezines in NZ, Australia, the UK and US. She is the editor of Poems in the Waiting Room (NZ) (waitingroompoems.wordpress.com).
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