Now
I read to my dog from a takeout menu
so he can sleep. When he tires
of that, I talk to him
about nothing, and when I run out
of things to say, I make up words
to a song with whatever
array of notes and breath streams in
the way the clean wind did
as we rode once, and
I rolled down the window a hair
and he sat up without effort, glossy nose
in the speeding weather, eyes half closed
in the light that whizzed through his fur
like the hands of a friend
who had missed him.
Frannie Lindsay's first book of poems,
Where She Always Was, received the 2004
May Swenson Award from Utah State University Press.
What do you think? Discuss this article in Post & Riposte.
Subscribe to our e-mail newsletter.
