Monday, January 12, 2015

Therapy Dog

So small is the woman
her wheelchair looms around her
like a man's boot
looms around a child's foot

So thin is the woman
her bones are like
bent grasses waiting
under an iced over pond

So silent is the woman
death is her only voice
and he whispers
walk on she's mine

And so I walk on past her
but the dog turns back
stands before her
and rests his muzzle on her knee

Friday, January 2, 2015

PTSD

Screaming
My fists raised
I wake up
In the doorway
Of my bedroom
In the dark
And then I feel the dog
standing beside me
leaning hard against my thigh

And I bend down
To put my arms around him
And the rise and fall
Of his breath
Feels warm against my damp shirt
And I say to him It's okay
It's okay now
And I know I am talking
To myself 

Dr. Rx says knowing the details
Won't change a thing
Don't go lifting up rocks
You think it will help
To see what crawls beneath
But it doesn't work that way
I see her point
In the day in an office
Filled with fluorescent light
But in the night
In the dark
In the doorway
Of my bedroom
I want to know my enemy
For who he is
So that I can see the whites of his eyes
So that I can kill him
So that the dog and I
Can sleep