Sunday poems

Loyal
William Matthews
They gave him an overdose
of anesthetic, and its fog
shut down his heart in seconds.
I tried to hold him, but he was
somewhere else. For so much love
one of the principals is missing,
it's no wonder we confuse love
with longing. Oh I was thick
with both. I wanted my dog
to live forever and while I was
working on impossibilities
I wanted to live forever, too.
I wanted company and to be alone.
I wanted to know how they trash
a stiff ninety-five-pound dog
and I paid them to do it
and not tell me. What else?
I wanted a letter of apology
delivered by decrepit hand,
by someone shattered for each time
I'd had to eat pure pain. I wanted
to weep, not "like a baby,"
in gulps and breath-stretching
howls, but steadily, like an adult,
according to the fiction
that there is work to be done,
and almost inconsolably.



from Selected Poems and Translations 1969-1991, 1992
Houghton Mifflin, New York, NY

Copyright 1992 by William Matthews.





Another yes and no morning

By Kathy Young



was the wind howling this morning?

yes



did I get out of bed when the alarm sounded?

no



was the dog eager to start the walk as soon as I was ready?

yes



did I remember to bring the poo bag?

no



did my feet get wet almost immediately as we got to the field?

yes



was it as cold as the wind said it would be?

no



did I hear the birds sing and was I alone dancing with the stars?

yes



could I see my little black dog running gleefully against the dark green hills?

no



was the coffee and toast and kitchen warmer and friendlier for having braved the morning?

yes



do I wish now I’d stayed in bed the extra forty five minutes

no



will I want to get out of bed tomorrow with the alarm?

yes and no