Robert Carr

Neglected Friendship

for Frannie Lindsay


I reach out to the wife
of snow, and wind
is full of silence.
For years, we’ve known
each other,

walked city woods
with sight-
hounds. I’ve sipped
Jack in her living
room. In whispers

we remember blood
red sumac pods
in blizzard. She speaks
of amputations,
untethered separations

in the self, says –
I’ve never
been without a dog.
It’s like moving without
a limb. We list

canines, abandoned
men, share a sense
of losing senses,
breakage. No one wears
the paisley tie

in my dark closet.
Hanging on her
hallway hook,
a braided leash waits
for a life to lead.

Robert Carr is a Maine-based author of five collections of poetry, most recently, Blue Memento (Lily Poetry Review Books, 2025) and Phallus Sprouting Leaves, winner of the 2024 Rane Arroyo Chapbook Series (Seven Kitchens Press). Robert’s work has appeared in many journals and magazines including The Greensboro Review, The Massachusetts Review, and Shenandoah.