You Had A Name But i Can Not Remember It

When i was younger, maybe fourteen years old,
there was a dog who lived on a wire in the yard
of my father's stone manufacturing plant.

He was a mean dog. He was yellow, lean,
bristling fur, white teeth. Firm, muscular,
a neck calloused by chains.

i could never go near him, he smelled the
fear in me and dominated me. That nameless
dog was the most terrifying being in my world.

One day my father told me to clear the weeds from
the yard, from around the stones, the green
in their growth can stain the curing rocks.

When the yellow dog came near me, growling,
i caught the tip of his nose with my knife.
He cowarded from me from that time on.

That poor dog on a wire, probably underfed,
over sunned; vicious - afraid. His scarred nose
white with a knife mark.

i didn't know i would cry when my father told me.
i was a boy and didn't know about the
things of men, of how the world works, how cruel it can be.

The nameless yellow dog died during the night.
During the thunderstorm he had become even
more afraid, more than me and my youthful blade.

He had jumped the fence with his wire 'round
his neck. There isn't a way to tell but he either
choked or broke his strong yellow neck on his wire.

i had never known the death of an enemy, what's
more, i hadn't known he was always my friend.
he was afraid, i had cut him, he died without my apologies.

So dog, You had a name but i can not remember it,
you were a good dog, i am sorry i treated you bad,
i hope things are better for you now, off of the wire.