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My Daughter’s Dog
December 2013
By David Asia
My daughter’s dog
Is as much a part of me as breathing,
A constant in the metabolism of my day.
Beyond feed and water,
Letting him in and out,
The choreography
Of moving around him
In my darkened room,
Our walks up the road,
And beyond his song,
Predating the time his kind
First approached our fires,
There is the simple fact of temperature,
Of seeing him in the yard,
The patterns of black and white
Down his muzzle,
The feathered parabola of his tail,
And those ears,
Beacons of his breed,
Attuned to his every now.
Shadow come,
I say,
And here he is.
Except for this now,
This last now,
My face an inch from his,
My hand stroking the fur
Above his eye,
Over his temple,
Soft,
As if spun by spiders,
To the ready, white tufts at his ear,
Again and again,
My face so close to his,
Searching for him
In the sea of pupil,
Come back, Shadow,
Come back,
Until the vet touches my arm
Come back
And says it’s time to let him go,
It’s time to let him go.
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1/15/2014
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