The Body Poem Project: Dog's Head

Dog’s Head 

After the election, I quit my professional job to take care of puppies in distress. 

Now I wear yellow raincoats instead of blue suits. 

In the mornings, I sit sandwiched between two dogs, hungry for pancakes. 

I try to type with a soft, warm, heavy dog’s head resting on my wrist. 

Out of the filth, I picked these dogs up and the smell of rainy decay lingers upon them. 

They smell like alligators, sewage and mold mixed with sweet paw sweat,

In these early days, I still find mats on Tish left over from the larger clumps. 

I cut another one off and another, these unbearable reminders of her discomfort. 

In the following days, I became dog alert and anxious about change. 

When I wrote, my wrists crackled with nervous energy, 

Lily dog weighs less than 15 pounds but rests hard, with heavy head. 

I had to learn a new trick, writing with Lily's head resting on my wrist. 

Four years later, we sigh contentedly nestled beside each other, after the election, awaiting results.