For the third Sunday of July, this month’s poetry post is a reflection on depression, by zoomorphizing it in the form a popular metaphor for it, the black dog.

The Black Dog

A poem now I compose this time
on that darkest haze, a draining of color
from my view of the world, the vigor-killer
that’s called depression. It’s a constant pet
that I can’t be rid of, though it can be leashed,
and sometimes it sleeps. He said it best,
that war leader, Sir Winston Churchill,
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