The Bone – Michal Goldstein

 there is no greater image of 
 than the dog that runs back for 
 the bone 
 for the twentieth time 
 on a lonely afternoon. 
 it returns home to its master 
 lays down at his feet 
 sets down the emblem of his 
 and the master laughs, 
 accepts his gift half-heartedly
 sheds enough love to last until 
 the next round 
 and then sends the dog back 
 to fetch. 

 i don’t think i’m the dog— 
 i think i’m the bone 
 tossed around and used 
 but still, 
 thinking it’s nice
 to be needed. 
 dropped at your feet, me, and 
 you, for what it’s worth, 
 take me in with one arm 
 warm me to the touch 
 then throw me back into 
 cold air. 
 the sky watches in 
 the dog 
 hardly notices 
 and you, for what it’s worth, 
 don’t notice either. 

As a recent high school graduate and student in Harvard University’s class of 2025, I’ve committed myself to working on my writing throughout my gap year. My poem on gender, “blank canvases,” has been featured as an Editor’s Choice Award in Teen Ink’s magazine, and I have worked with my school’s library to host a celebration of student authors annually. I am most proud of works of literary research, notably my paper about Holocaust art, titled “How We Silence Voices of the Holocaust: Jewish Women in Art and Female Representation in Holocaust Memorials.”

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