Saturday, July 28, 2012

Something Worth Seeing

Princess Louisa Inlet

The inlet was a secret room, like God
had made it to hide people from the Nazi’s:
cliffs studded with trees on with either side
careened recklessly into eerily still waters.

At the end of the hallway
a grey mountain climbed up
with a toothy smile and poked at the clouds.
The peak was a water balloon spraying out
dozens of waterfalls that fell hundreds of feet.

The mountain’s elbow cradled
an angry white ribbon that cascaded
into the glassy sea like a burst water-main.

No mermaids bathed in the mist,
there were no centaurs wandering
through the ancient forests;
but the old hemlocks looked down
smug in their green sweaters, as if 

we had just missed something worth seeing.


Everything in our house
has been in her mouth.

She wasn’t even our dog,
just a puppy on loan

with paws that didn’t fit,
eyes that didn’t match
staring up puzzled:
why would anyone
not want to play?

Always a frantic stagger:
stumbling down stairs,
sliding across floorboards
slamming into walls--
a daily race to the door
to lick and nuzzle, and rest
her head against our calves,
just to welcome us home.

She hadn’t learned
games aren’t meant for the street--or
how to recognize a frightened command
from a playful tease--or
the difference between cars and toys.
She was just a pup.

She wasn’t even our dog,
but what does that matter?