Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Monday, July 11, 2016

sonnet #9


Remember when the puppy woke me up
It's late, so groggy, where did I put glasses
Stumbling, then, to where she had thrown up
She was afraid that I would be mad, but I assisted

She needed a bath. It was all over her paws and face
She didn't realize, soon enough, we weren't playing
She reached for the paper towel, longed to race
Me to the trash, play keep away, embrace me

Once in the bath, I checked the time, 3 o'clock
I wasn't mad. How could I be mad?
She was so young. She splashed and barked
I washed my hands, made coffee, while she dreamed

This is what it's like for ancestor ghosts
We sing for them to help then forget it all, mostly

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