Heel

Heel

Desperate to not offend, nor go too far.

Desperate for another chance—for another weekend

at the park.  I tug against the leash to sniff

and mark.  It’s tight; it chokes.  You give

me line.  And if a rabbit passes, what may I do?

I sit.  The leash goes limp.  Some extra

on the ground beside me sleeps.  I listen

and barely watch your talk.  A neighbor.

I jut my muzzle a bit; catch a scent.

A doe or just her scat?  Some other

on the cell-phone, then your welcome smiling

to the postman.  I sit

pretty for you.  Unfold my brow.  Tilt

an ear toward squirrels cracking

nuts.  I stand and circle, sigh

into a slightly cooler spot.

The leash slack—wondering

while waiting what next from you?

What next command?  Or

will you brush my coat.  Scratch

behind my ears and under where your red

collar bites my neck.

Will you meet my eyes and breathe

my doggy breath—cooling your nose with mine?

Sometimes you set me free to race and chase the ball.

Work my hips and thighs,

my haunches launch, my hocks unsprung,

and with teeth bared, twisting, snatch my Frisbee from clean air.

Landing past the fence line buried hot,

my collar sparks.  I yelp; it is something I cannot help.

You coo and soothe.  But you humans, you don’t

have ears to hear the collar’s metal sing.

(signed),

Woman’s Best Friend