top of page

A Dog Named Halley

There he is again

eyes burning, tail

raggedy as ever


He comes around here

every so often

more dash than amble


Sniffing at Jupiter

and Saturn, their cold

orbs implacable, uncurious


Ignore his scampering

and then he’s

in our neighborhood


Bounding over asteroids

barking as Venus slides off

to the left, raising the hem


Of her skirt so as not

to get splashed by any

interplanetary debris


From his paws as he

digs and throws a shower

of stones and star sand


Over the place where he

deposits his you know what

once every four score years


And then he’s flashing across

the sky, expectantly waiting

for some astronomer to


Greet him, whistle, raise

an arm in recognition,

even for some miscreant


To pick up a stone

in warning – but nothing,

absolutely nothing – they’re gone


A world deserted, burning

he sees now, in red-embered

radioactive glow – and then he’s off


Barking away between the stars

pursuing his dogged route

thinking perhaps, as dogs sometimes do


Somehow he knew that might happen

To Go Back To
Hit your browser's

© Johnmichael Simon



bottom of page