On Touching My Dog's Cold and Perfect Teeth
       

I hum Ruby Tuesday when I think of dying.
No more tired homecomings to this herder
in the hall, her nails tapping their code
of love and need across the hardwood.
No whining, no mad scrabble as she gains
her feet and storms the steps, glad I'm alive
and home, no matter what I've done.
I fret housefires too. Flames climbing
the walls, flames fanned by wind
through a leaky window. Would she blame
me for a bad outlet and crosswords
stacked on a bedside table? Most nights
I keep watch and heft my share of grace,
listen for the click of the pilot light.
Through open vents the forced air rises.

Tweet

Copyright © 2017 Adam Houle All rights reserved
from Stray
Lithic Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission