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.
Grateful for Kootenay, and for the poems he fetched for you.