The Last House

North

sun on the willow

the woman carries the wash

over the grey dog

asleep by the open door

cliff swallows reclaim the line

years ago we chose

a red butter-soft puppy

who liked us & did

not pee all the long drive home

except when we stopped for gas

I led him gently

to the end of the pasture

& over the fence

to hack through ferns & deadfall

looking for a new way out

I courted island

& city women & once

left him on the boat

where he waited & waited

until everyone had gone