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9 5 R F O R A D O G R Y A N W I L S O N You’d wake us up – that shrill, insistent bark Driving away whatever dreams had fogged Our vision – and we’d rise in the true dark, Wondering just what exactly, catalogued By canine instinct under ‘‘THREAT,’’ was there, What jogger, cat, or dog it was that dogged You from your drowse beside the easy chair And summoned your yapped pandemonium. Nine times in ten it was just empty air, Some ghosted scent you sni√ed. Dumb – you were dumb, Like all dogs, snuΔing up to snakes, afraid Of mice. When we said ‘‘come,’’ you wouldn’t come; You capered when commanded to play dead, And when we wanted most to be alone You’d o√er up that imbecilic head Until we crowned your pity with a bone. Our lives took on the shape you spun from need, The harried rondure of routine. You gone, The house is quieter, and we’ve been freed Forever from the never-ending chores Your tail entailed, the scrubbing where you peed, The hunting stain-removers down in stores. What’s hardest are the peaceful hours we wanted So much when you were scratching up the doors 9 6 Y And howling at some phantom thing that haunted The world without, some threat we couldn’t see That you were desperate to have confronted. Now you’re part of that present unity Of absences the living move among, In which what was, what will, and what can’t be Dance in a ring to a triumphant song We don’t have ears to hear, or heart to see, Who sleep now perfectly, and much too long. ...

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