My god and Me

I took my god for a walk one August afternoon

not knowing it would be our last,

ignorant she would leave so soon

she walked beside me on that day

(an odd thing for my god to do)

little troubled, seemingly

by the cancer creeping in her womb

I would say she left before her time, but then who would I be?

loyalty can’t be measured in years,

though I wish she’d disagree

so don’t take me back

to a sterile room

where my god breathed her last

don’t take me out back

to the tiniest mound

where once my god made me laugh

“It’s only the death of a god,”

you say,

and maybe you have a point

but I miss the never-ending wag

of her brown dog tail, despite.