NaPoWriMo: "Daisy, My Other Dog"
I stand at the sink,
sorting the dirty glasses and plates.
In between putting forks and spoons
in the dishwasher and cleaning a fry pan
that doesn’t fit in there,
a quiet yearning
scoops out my heart,
distracts my arms, pulsates
in the air in front of me,
and I look up.
There she is.
Across the back yard and behind the barrier.
My other dog. Daisy.
Her face a small sun shining from behind the chain link,
she illuminates the molecules, particles, atoms, cells, that
dance between her eyes and our window. She doesn’t move.
She waits without a word,
in a state so pure, I cannot help
but go back there to bask in it.
I lean over to scratch her in the good spots.
I hunker down, whisper secrets, and she listens.
She gives my fingers tender kissesthrough the fence.
The sliding door squeaks, her people call her in.
She runs to them, well cared for, well loved.
And I’m happy for her.
We’ve been meeting like this for years;
and now, in nine days, I’m moving far away.
But there is no way to tell a dog about the futureor the past.
There is only how to love her right now.
And how to let her love me
right now.
There is nothing else.
This is what I can learn from Daisy.
And this is all I can give her, too.