Punctuation
As you measure your days from the suspension point,
the dog rolls belly-up into full gravity surrender.
Her four paws drift above silky thrown-back ears
and lips drawn like drapes, pulled away to reveal
the killing-canines of her ancestors, sharp slashes in the softness,
oddly comic, almost fierce,
like the freeze-frame squirrel that posed quivering this morning
in early spring slim, red coat fanned by the sun
into embers caught as ellipsis, between pause
and alarm, admonishment vibrating its question-mark tail,
reminding me not
of this gelatinous dog, slack-back relaxed in a parenthetic joy,
but of how easy it is to not notice my own shape, or how I punctuate this life,
and what it might mean to read it.
Wow, this definitely did not go where I expected… So, so good at the end!! Thanks, as always, for writing.
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Thank you, Lisa!!
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