Floyd Reisman

My Yellow Lab Floyd

He shows me the way A boy in a dog suit On a scent Innocent His marble-sized eyes Soft brown nougats Warm Black Crow centers Anchored in opposing tear drops At rest Lying sideways Between the weight of the world And a profound sense of loss He has seen it all And regrets most of it Eyes rimmed as if with kohl It’s a look, a look that cannot be denied You want to give him everything You will give him anything, Anything that will make his tongue come out And swipe his snout Or make him sweep the floor with his tail Call his name Tell him he’s good Ask him if he wants food Ask him if he wants a ride Tell him Mommy’s coming Tell him anyone’s coming For God’s sake just say hello As Quixote upon seeing a windmill, He tilts his head He pumps an eyebrow He’s ready to follow you To the ends of the earth or the driveway, Whichever comes first. “Mommy, why is that doggie so sad?” The little girl pumps her mother’s hand, Her finger wags at Floyd “He can’t help it,” I say in a sing-song way. “His eyes are shaped like sadness. His brows slope down, Like a seesaw always down. He always looks this way, Even when he’s happy And he’s always happy. Isn’t that right, Floyd?” Tilt Pump Lick Wag Giggle The little girl runs over and hugs Floyd, Squeezing his scruff with arms of grace in training. He looks at me as if to say, “Is this the ends of the earth or the driveway?”

He shows me the way

A boy in a dog suit

On a scent

Innocent

His marble-sized eyes

Soft brown nougats

Warm Black Crow centers

Anchored in opposing tear drops

At rest

Lying sideways

Between the weight of the world

And a profound sense of loss

He has seen it all

And regrets most of it

Eyes rimmed as if with kohl

It’s a look, a look that cannot be denied

You want to give him everything

You will give him anything,

Anything that will make his tongue come out

And swipe his snout

Or make him sweep the floor with his tail

Call his name

Tell him he’s good

Ask him if he wants food

Ask him if he wants a ride

Tell him Mommy’s coming

Tell him anyone’s coming

For God’s sake just say hello

As Quixote upon seeing a windmill,

He tilts his head

He pumps an eyebrow

He’s ready to follow you

To the ends of the earth or the driveway,

Whichever comes first.

“Mommy, why is that doggie so sad?”

The little girl pumps her mother’s hand,

Her finger wags at Floyd

“He can’t help it,” I say in a sing-song way.

“His eyes are shaped like sadness.

His brows slope down,

Like a seesaw always down.

He always looks this way,

Even when he’s happy

And he’s always happy.

Isn’t that right, Floyd?”

Tilt

Pump

Lick

Wag

Giggle

The little girl runs over and hugs Floyd,

Squeezing his scruff with arms of grace in training.

He looks at me as if to say,

“Is this the ends of the earth or the driveway?”

Comments

Submitted by Anonymous (not verified) on Mon, 08/12/2013 - 08:35

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JS Kingston

"End of the earth or the driveway?" He knows you can be counted on for the truth.

Submitted by Anonymous (not verified) on Wed, 08/14/2013 - 11:31

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wendy chilmark

Floyd still breathes in living color here in your poem and obviously in your heart also.

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