Powerless

What do you think of when
I talk about a hurt puppy,
Limping through the mist —

It blocks the sunlight
until savage twilight.

It creeps to the figure on
the end of the wooden dock.
He’s late for the banquet

Decanted into red:
brooding, dry, and acidic.

She lets go of the emerald
balloon, only to get fucked
when it pops, impossible

to avoid. What do you think
of when I say powerless?