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Lost dog; do not chase
Sleepwalking
through hometown streets
are remnants
of foregone solace
The gallows' call
to an idle wanderer,
into the ether.
Their barren poetry
laid ashore
—sunken ramblings
of the madman
in his moonlit cell,
of cinematic sorrows
inhumed within
this sightless capsule
of time.
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I tend to struggle with titling my poems; it is always the last step of the writing process for me. The title for this work came to me when I was driving one of my friends home one night and saw a poster stapled to a telephone pole. It read “LOST DOG. DO NOT CHASE.” in bold lettering. For some reason it spoke to me.