… like a dog in whose face the houses were barking …
— Basim Furat
Look at you, approaching Wellington
like a dog.
For days before school starts
you are wired up,
on hyper-alert, snapping
at flies.
The first morning the orbit
of your school bag
forces me to back off,
you take off
alone. At three,
I find you racing in circles
around a new friend,
and in a week
you’ve picked up
the guitar,
an insistent strumming
the whole family has to get used to.
It is hardly smooth sailing
from now on, there is both space
and friction to contend with,
but you are on your way,
that is, already here,
every step an arrival.