eugene platt
The Good Vet
expresses empathy with kindly
blue eyes but denies me the comfort
of hearing my beloved old corgi could be stabilized
by the most potent drugs available or any kind of surgery.
Intervertebral disc disease, she says,
is common with aging corgis, bred to be
short enough to avoid the swift kicks of cattle,
yet agile, fast enough to fulfill their herding instinct.
Sympathetic, sensing I’m about to cry,
she says we could try acupuncture,
and I leap at what may well be
a last hope for any corgi.
Soon there is the first treatment,
long needles penetrating his haunches,
with two more, two weeks apart, to follow.
Even so, just a few days later, I must return him
to the good vet—no, not for acupuncture again,
but, alas, another kind of needle, one she says
will make easy for him, though not for me,
his solo journey to another realm.
eugene platt
Eugene Platt, an octogenarian striving to remain active in an era of increasing ageism, was born in Charleston, South Carolina. After serving in the Army, he earned degrees at the University of South Carolina and Clarion University of Pennsylvania as well as a Diploma in Anglo-Irish Literature at Trinity College Dublin. His poems have appeared in Poetry Ireland Review, Poet Lore, Tar River Poetry, Crazyhorse, South Carolina Review, Southwestern Review, Poem, etc., and some have been choreographed. His 2020 collection Nuda Veritas was published by Revival Press (Ireland). He lives in Charleston with his main muses: Montreal-born wife Judith, corgi Bess, and cats Finnegan and Maeve.