Dog Spelled Backwards

 

To see if the dog still loved me

I made myself forgo the sweet talk

I usually lathered it with, and screwed

The top on tight of the jar of treats,

And made it sleep in the laundry room,

And left it alone in the house all day.

 

Nevertheless, it kept the faith, and still

Jumped up joyfully when I entered, and

Licked me when I woke, and snuggled up

Beside me when I settled down to watch tv.

 

Who deserves that kind of love? Not me.

Love that keeps on glowing in the dark,

And never asks for anything back, and

Forgives old debts, and keeps creating joy.

The juicy, fresh-born smell of new life

Squirming in the whelping box. Love

That overlooks the cuffing, cursing blow

I dealt it when—still fastened to its leash—

It lunged against my knees, and knocked me

Down in the street. Then stood there, and

Took the blow as the bus roared past, zooming

Through the vacant spot where I’d just stood.