The hardest part about April is dropping my standards enough to just put something on paper. I know this isn't that great, and isn't really what I want, but it's the best I can do tonight.
"You have never had a dog?"
"I've never had a dog," she says.
You have never had a dog?
I think, incredulously.
You have never
had a shadow
follow you adoringly
from room to room to room
the center of a universe.
You have never had a dog?
I think, incredulously.
You have never brought
that last bite of toast to your lips
only to withdraw it
because adoring brown eyes
claimed it as theirs.
You have never had a dog?
I think, incredulously.
You have never
sat on the side of a lake
watching a sleek black lab
red leash trailing behind
paddle joyfully, endlessly
through hot summer day.
You have never had a dog?
I think, incredulously.
You have never
had warm presence
leaning anxiously against you
while you wept
your way through
a falling apart world.
You have never had a dog?
(c) Carol Wilcox, 2019
2 comments:
I love the repetition here. This feels like a draft of a picture book manuscript to me! (I am wondering if your dog poems could be revised at the end of the month just for that purpose.)
Yes. The repetition is so powerful. And yes, I think you'll have a book!!!
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