Punctuation

 

As you measure your days

from the suspension point

 

the dog rolls belly up into

full gravity 

surrender 

 

her four paws drifting

above thrown back ears,

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 you 

not 

of this gelatinous dog 

slack back relaxed in a

parenthetic joy

 

but of how easy it is 

to not notice 

your own shape

or how you punctuate this life

 

and what 

it might mean

to read it.