Goa, India
John Martino
What beautiful fates
we sometimes come to:
This stray dog
of patched fur
limping in the noon
day heat, stops
to dig himself
a perfectly cool
and shaded hole
under the bow
of a beached fishing boat,
the sand flying back
from its one good
rhythmically working
hind paw,
deep enough to flop
down in and rest,
but not too deep,
not forever deep,
not the hole to end
all holes.