I feel strange about this poem now. I wrote it about my fear of Kierkegaard’s death, and when he passed away in December, a few days short of his 14th birthday, I was across the world from him in New Zealand. To quote my own poem, his demise also “happened offscreen”. I’m still quite sad that I wasn’t with him on his last days, and it makes this poem feel moot to me. Anyways, cheers to everyone who’s had to say goodbye to beloved pets. 💔
The poem was sent out, in a slightly different version, as part of the League of Canadian Poets Poetry Pause. You can subscribe to get poems emailed to you, or read them on their website.
Read Snoot in plain text on the League of Canadian Poets website, here.
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