. . . Lady’s poem 4.30.2023 . . .
My Cleveland Dog
Rasping, oxygen-burning pants are
Drawn from his voluminous white whirled chest
Hideous octopus suckers
Stud his maroon jowls
“Dog boy,” husband says
“Dog boy, yeah”
Dog bows his orange lion head
Husband tousles and cradles his ears
It stops and dog galumphs into a heap
On the carpet
Dog’s a lion, a magnificent warmth
for a bleary rainy Sunday
“Dog walk walk dog,” I say, and he’s up!
Massive weight – big dog –
Prances his skittles of nails
On the foyer floor
I harness him one leg
Then the other, good dog,
And slam the witches’ bells
on the door
I turn to check the door handle
It’s sure in its mechanical mind
It secures the damp entrance to house
Littered with new and bruised
maple flowers
We’re up and out!
Dog bumps nose to
Broken robin egg looks like
sugar shell Easter candy
What is it, Dog? Dog dog?”
Whimsical, not urgent
Wind chimes from behind the house
We walk the red brick road
Blocks away
Another dog barks mystery
And the sound of dog is brick
Home
Wind chime temple bells softer
Now in the cotton batting
3pm of the day
Our living room clocks
Stagger tocks then chase each other
Or race each other
Our dog slops up laps of water
From the metal of his saliva bowl
An unrelenting repeat of seasons
Everywhere
– Lady
(Bio — Lady is a stubborn woman who lives on a red brick road in Cleveland next to the zoo with her curmudgeon poet husband, dog and two cats.)