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Schrödinger’s Dog

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He darts through the gates

I forgot to close,

in front of a car,

trying to stop.

 

I don’t see this happen

because I’m out the back

having a smoke

like a bad mum.

 

When I realise he’s gone,

I think of that cat

in its little box,

both dead and alive,

until it’s seen.

 

But as he strolls

around the corner

unscathed, tail wagging,

I don’t feel joy he’s alive,

knowing what happened

on the other side.