“A distant face” by sume
I’ll probably revise this a thousand times, as usual…
Mornings at mother’s house were piled
onto plates with biscuits and milk gravy
ladled from cast iron nights stretched
between the sawtooth bark and growl
of our half-breed Pekingese, rest unknown;
staked and tethered close, but out of reach
of the garbage. The raccoons only smiled
in return, knowing death traveled only as far
as the last link of chain. They feigned courage,
gorged themselves on human refuse; pieces
of chicken, half-chewed ham and carrots
discretely discarded to hasten dessert.
Only a trash-wreaking canine, protecting
a forbidden treasure and an insomniac
who never knew dreams, were left unsatisfied.
Mid-morning, with tongue smothered in gravy,
baggaged eyes crusted with sleep, I suggested
she weight the lids.
“Why?” she asked, “The dog does her job.”
With a wave of hand, she filled her plate,
and told me to wash my face.
Weeks later, we found Cocoa dead; a neglected
case of worms. Mother bought garbage cans
with latches, but night-thieves still grinned
over caches of waste knowing a prowler’s
best friend is his victim’s sense of security.
I lay awake longing, not for sleep
but to hear the sound of protest.
it’s perfect.
Sue, if you came away from it with something useful, it’s served its purpose. 🙂
I actually did on both a concrete and metaphorical level. I lost a beloved dog due to a lapse in attentiveness last summer so I get the gut pain of the loss, the flashbacks of the dog trying to get my help, the guilt that won’t go away–and also, see in the lack of proper care of an adoptee, or any child, the warning that just because there is no protest doesn’t mean there isn’t something going terribly wrong.
The picture is stunning.
Thanks for taking the time to look at it in depth, Sue. It’s the first thing I’ve written in a while. I’m a bit out of practice. That gives me hope that it’s getting where I want it to be.
I tried to incorporate a sub-story also but you picked up on one of the main points. I was afraid the sub-story is too personal or “too insider” to come across or maybe I tried to put too many apples in the barrel.
I know, I know, a poet should let their poem speak for itself, but I can’t help it. 😉
Your writing and photography put into a book would be a bestseller. Ever thought about it?
Thanks Soon Young, I have but quickly dismissed the idea. There’s so much talent out there that far exceeds anything I could do. But who knows? If I can ever focus long enough to put a book together, I might give it shot someday. 🙂
I prefer the idea of doing collaborative work with other adoptees. What I’d really like to see is a book out there that shows our sense of humor. I think that gets left by the wayside and it shouldn’t.