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The Next World

Three years gone, the dog will greet me there.
She'll waggle up to my arms at the pearly gate.
A Spitz with wet glass eyes and fine white hair,
she was nearly an angel in her earthly stateó
with just as much free will as angels have,
her nature to please mine, to show how grace
can elevate obedience into love
and turn a wolf's into an angel's face.

But if things go south, at least there'll be my cató
soot fur with eyes that flash like yellow tin.
She'll help the devils rend my flesh, a blur
of arch and hiss, of claw, ears back and flat.
She shows the gross indifference of sin
then implicates me with a little purr.

Benjamin S. Grossberg


Volume 66, Number 3

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