Dog Pack
The dog loves the woman.
I think of Thumper (dumbass name)
named by dumbass couple, Bedford, NY.
She didn’t need no lousy name.
I don’t need a word, she might have said.
Muscles rippling down 149th Street
the color of mottled sunset.
I saw her unmuzzle her companion
a slow-witted excitable girl
who was a biter.
She seemed to know me from pack memory
greeted me with hurling body hugs
stayed close each time I visited
and there were months between those visits
chose to sleep with me in guest room bed
like Lucian Freud’s whippet and woman
maybe remembering when I ran with her.
Was I…No, she had to be the leader
trotting down and up St. Ann’s Avenue
followers sniffing the gallop at her flanks.
I run with my girl.
What is it about
no familial connectivity
(long……..story)
but I have been recognized
by birds in the parrot family
cats, dogs and, I believe, crocodilians.
Long after I wish I forgot
that dumbass couple
I run with my girl.
Ed. note: To preserve formatting, an image of the poem is being used.
Linda Umans taught for many years in the public school system of New York City where she lives, studies, writes. Recent publications include poems in Spillway, Spiral Orb, Composite {Arts Magazine}, DIALOGIST, Carbon Culture Review, The Maine Review, LIGHT – A Journal of Photography and Poetry, Gris-Gris, The Broadkill Review, 2 Bridges Review, and pieces in Mr. Beller’s Neighborhood.
Image by Franz Stuck [Public domain]
