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. 💔
Read Snoot in plain text on the League of Canadian Poets website, here.