Here is a river

full of sticks and dog

Here is a river full of dog,
and oh, its slumped banks,
its pools of delight.
Here is the salmonberry reaching
its flowers over the edge.
Here is all the green fuzz
and newborn April wanting -
stroke it now and walk,
sand covered branch
in hand. And what did you bring
in your pocket today? White
stones for the bone tree,
dried meats wrapped in foil,
a collar stitched with salmon.

Bound, bound to the water's edge
across the walking bridge
along the morning path.
Will you love him more than this

when he's gone? Here is a river
full of sticks and dog,
you bring it along on your fingers,
you wear the scarf of robin
and starling and call
the spaniel home.

---

Write about an Animal - Fish 

I chose fish so I could avoid 
writing about dog, being the owner of one 
who is dying. Oh sure 
he still runs with me, all crazy 
for the river, and the salmon there, 
flipping big carcasses, perfect 
for a big stinky mouthful 
and no matter how I shout 
he totally ignores me. Once 
I stormed home and didn't look 
back but he was beside me again 
before I reached the park. I locked him up 
in his stinky cage and growled 
but that was before I knew 
about his dying. That's the thing. 
Now he's the perfect dog, 
his fur is glorious, his eyes 
full of love and his big paws, 
the ones that used to track mud 
and slush all over my house, 
that used to scratch up the new 
hardwood, that dug holes 
in my sister in laws garden, 
those big goofy mitts 
are now attached to a dog 
who is dying. He lets me hold them 
a moment, then jumps up and tips 
over his water bowl, demanding food. 
He doesn't act like a dying dog 
is supposed to act. I won't buy fish 
when he's gone, fish die too 
sometimes they die covered in green 
fuzz or with their eyes bulged. 
Hamsters die wrapped in little 
pieces of blanket, licking water 
from a daughter's finger. 
Parents die in private rooms 
with green walls and not enough 
oxygen. I'm not sure what it will be like 
for a dog to die. For this dog 
to be gone. I suppose I'll have to 
get rid of all his stuff, kennels 
and dog beds and leashes, 
his organic joint strengthener 
and eco-shampoo. The green 
collar that reads 'Bark! if you're Irish" 
There'll be no barking 
at the paper boy every morning 
at 5 am. The household will carry on 
but there'll be no breath 
near the fish-shaped dish
on his rug by the door.

Today I thought I’d share my dog, Kootenay, who passed away in 2009. He was a difficult dog, a trainer once told me he was ‘special needs’ haha - but he loved the Squamish River and I’m happy I was able to take him there often.

Both these poems were written in 2009. The style of my writing that year is so different than today! But all poems are snippets of time and life, right?

Here is a River was shortlisted in 2009 in the ARC Poetry Contest, and first published in the Squamish Reporter, 2012.