eventually, I was asked to write about a dog.
there was a letter, and a man above it.
in my own letter, I asked for the woman behind him.
she arrived with the very little I came to know.
I could’ve been a room she sat sewing in.
her one hand nibbling the other, the foster door
of her back. my whole life in front of me
on another’s fours.
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 10:42 AM UTC
eventually, I was asked to write about a dog.
there was a letter, and a man above it.
in my own letter, I asked for the woman behind him.
she arrived with the very little I came to know.
I could’ve been a room she sat sewing in.
her one hand nibbling the other, the foster door
of her back. my whole life in front of me
on another’s fours.
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