her rescue dogs

to  prove to herself
and others that she had
any sort of empathy, she'd
carry

around the boxes of ashes
from her dead rescue dogs.

shiny laminated boxes
with metal plagues holding
their names.

Rex, Viking, Fido. she'd hold
them up

smiling like a proud child,

and yet,
when it came to humans,

the knife was bloodied, hidden
behind her back.