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Dogs

Our dogs died

last summer

one in his sleep

the other in my arms

in quick succession

they were gone.

 

The summer was hot and

painful.

Beautiful in its own way.

 

It's cooler now

almost one year later.

We have our heads on straighter

and patched up hearts.

So we go to the dog park

and watch the dogs run.

 

We sit on the bench

hip to hip

our chins propped

in the palms of our hands.

 

We don't have children

except that we did.

Their eyes were shaped

like almonds and pears.

They howled and hiccuped

in their sleep.

They gave us reason

to walk around the block.

They stole our bed and our hearts.

 

Look at that one, I say.

He's so fast!

I bet he's very happy.

I mean, look at him!

Yeah, that's a good one.

You can tell, Trev says.

Look how good he is.

 

Our eyes are dryer now

so we can see their

blooming faces.

Chins lifted up in anticipation.

Tails, an expression of emotion.

 

My eyes leap from my own face.

My heart ready

to maybe

love again.

 

But this is just research really.

I am looking for how to use my arms

after Lilly

and that takes time.

 

Meanwhile, come here.

Sit beside me and

watch the dogs run.

Tell me again

why you love them.

The way they trust.

Their devotion.

Their deep loyalty.

And while we're at it,

let's talk about the chapel of trees.

How they bow and sway.

The way the sky is still there

when we wake up

even though our dogs have died.

The way that flower

has completely seduced

that branch.

Mighty birds

orchestrating the wind.

 

How love always returns.

How nothing ever really dies.

It's enough to just remember that.

Sometimes that is enough.

 

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