RIP CHIHUAHUA
ashla c.r.
THE DOG DIED IN LATE NOVEMBER, BACK IN CALIFORNIA
WHILE I WAS DRINKING ROBITUSSIN ON AN EMPTY STOMACH
IN A CVS IN MIDTOWN EAST ON MY FIRST DAY IN MANHATTAN
THIS IS JUST FOR THE HOLIDAYS, I SAID
COMING OUT THE ALTERED CONSCIOUSNESS,
REGRESSING BACK TO HIGHSCHOOL SWEETHEART NOTHING BUT LEAN IN A SODA CAN ALL LONESOME!
I WALKED UP TO THE CITY FROM PHILADELPHIA
TO THINK ABOUT BECOMING A VAGRANT, OR A LATE-BLOOMING THEATRE-KID IN-HER EARLY-TWENTIES
LOOKING FOR A SIGN OF ME IN THE STUPID BIG CITY
THERE I FOUND THE UN STANDING UNTOUCHED, UNKNOWING
I THOUGHT ABOUT HOW PEOPLE WERE FUCKING IN THE SENATE AND
THAT A CHIHUAHUA WAS DEAD IS LOS ANGELES
IN THE WHOLE MESS OF EVERYTHING, I
KEPT WALKING
WHILE THE COLORS GOT BRIGHT AROUND ME
DIDN’T KNOW IF I’D
EVER FIND IT
HOME KEELED OVER WHILE I WAS TREPIDATIOUS IN THE NEW BUILDING
WHEN THE DOG DIES
THE MAN GRABS A SHOVEL
HE DIGS A HOLE AND HOPES IT’S DEEP ENOUGH
THE WOMAN HOLDS ITS SMALL BODY ON THE COUCH
WRAPS HIM IN LINENS
AND WHEN I GET BACK I WASH THE DISHES
THEN THE COUNTERTOPS
THE FLOORS DOORS HANDLES AND GROUT
BEHIND THE REFRIGERATOR, EVEN
I TRY TO WASH EVERYBODY
I TRY TO, I
TRY TO, I
TRY TO, I —
ashla c.r. is a writer, musician and DJ based in los angeles. she sings in a band called rabbit rabbit rabbit. you might hear her speak on low-power radio station 99.1FM in venice. when she was 18, she was a LA youth poet laureate finalist. for 2024, she's an aspiring surrealist.