Dog’s Rothko by Sara Grace

Dog’s Rothko by Sara Grace

And the sun and the sun and the sun! And the wet grass, wet on the nose, scent of dew and worm and no yes no yes, another! Meat, meat in the bread, fire on the meat. Somewhere in the grass, not far, a hotdog.  Farther still, a pit. Last night’s ashes, hot. “Heel,” speaks his beloved. Yes! Yes. No hotdog. He rockets to her side. They are not at play, they are at work. They are doing. He loves doing, loves to be at his beloved’s side. Loves to sit…