Sadee

the day ticks onward
with no claws clicking the floor,

no nose at fingertips,
no tipped-up ears at the crinkle of a bag.

her purple blankee went
when the vet tech left with her stilled body,

mingled ashes in the return bag
all the same color.

I don’t believe in Heaven
for people – how do we deserve one?

but am quite confident Sadee has a big stick
she’s proudly saved from the river

that courses through her afterlife
and if by some miracle

the pearly gates unseal for humans
it’s because the pet door was nosed open for us

…..

…..

for M & M, whose sweet girl Sadee crossed the rainbow bridge in December 2025.

thickens

day thickens into night.
I await a sign

from my long passed daughter –
a flickering street lamp,

an owl’s hoot,
her brother texting me

photos of his grizzled old dog
atop his bed, eyes shut,

but silence remains
which is to be expected

for what can the dead tell us
that we don’t already imagine?

…..

…..

a 55 for Caleigh, who would have turned 28 today (10 Nov 25)

offered to dVerse: Prosery

 

the water’s edge / 9

deaf, I don’t listen
so much as spread fingertips

to make my palms antennae
which acquire bouncing soundwaves

in the grooves my parents left
that prove I’m unique.

each time we shake hands
you sing to me.

chapped, I rub lotion like a bow
to soften these Stradivarius fingers

to croon to your cheeks upon stroking.
being deaf is a life

of sound as stranger
and yet the air keens a finer scent

I’m told, and sunlight is a dancer,
and toes pushing aside sand grains

on approach to the water’s edge
are the songs that we play on repeat

…..

…..

video rights belong to publisher/artist. non-commercial fair use. (Aaron Barnhart, The Water’s Edge)

offered to day 30, Napowrimo 2025, and dVerse Poetics

wider

 

yesterday I spent with your youngest brother
working, earning a living selling tee shirts,
his three cowlicks making him look just-woke-up
all day long.

I watched him smile wider
, contagious as a cold,
cheeks rounding, head bobbing
as he delighted in his customer’s laughing reply.

your other brother texted Quoro’s photo he wants on a sweatshirt
– old rheumy-eyed, not the young bright-eyed pup –
both pics sweet as only a yellow-eyed hound can be,
because that’s how he is now.

I imagine you smiling widely
, telling me you want that photo hoodie too,
delighting in Langston’s melon ‘do,
eye-rolling at Jackson’s fuzz mustache,

loving them wider than outstretched arms,
reminding me to laugh at all there is,
because that’s how it is now;
that now is all there is

…..

…..

Caleigh would have turned 27 this November 10th.

 

infer

 

Kitsune pants and shifts, her cone
keeping hindquarter sutures safe, at least it’s cooler
than last week’s New York inferno
– ample water keeps the lawn
, shrubbery, maple, oak – the odd hornbeam – verdant.

She rises, sets – a miniature, exuberant, floofy sun,
elevates chin – today’s itch,
this momentary scratch, she says (I infer)
is all we need

…..

…..

55 for earthweal

gruff / 8

that dog, the scoundrel – gruff thief
of hearts, like all dogs
better than us

his tilt head, snuffle,
shuffle and lounge,
paws atop your feet

to captivate you
to keep scritching ears and chin
, that band beneath his collar

– jeweled it may be, his captivity
will ensure our love
won’t run free day or night

…..

…..

55 for day 17 Napowrimo 2022

video rights belong to publisher/artist. fair use. (Three Dog Night, Try A Little Tenderness)

tufts / 4

Sebastian shuts his eyes, neck curling the pink pillow
in the way tired terriers hunt for sleep.

Stirring – eyes opening – re-situating, glancing expectantly – closing –
he waits for the ear scratch

, for the reassuring ‘good boy’
– tufts tuned to either

hand or voice
or better

both

…..

…..

a nonet for Day 9, Napowrimo 2022

video rights belong to publisher / artist . Fair use. (Bill Evans, Without a Song)