Jennifer L. Freed
The Dog and I

It is only for a moment that we stand
on the weed-ruffled shoulder of the narrow road
while the driver whips past,

but when we are safe again
I see, locked in the dog’s quick clamp,
a throb of velvet grey,
dangling paws.

I am already too late.
There is nothing to do but continue
walking with the mystery
beating in the warm, oblivious jaw
that trots beside me.