From Spring 2009 issue of Tricycle Magazine.
Golden Retrievals
Fetch? balls and sticks capture my attention seconds at a time. Catch? I don't think so.
Bunny, tumbling leaf, a squirrel who's - oh
joy-- actually scared. Sniff the wind, then
I'm off again: muck, pond, ditch, residue
of any thrillingly dead thing. And you?
Either you're sunk in the past, half our walk,
thinking of what you never can bring back.
or else you're off in some fog concerning
--tomorrow, is that what you call it? My work
to unsnare time's warp (and woof!), retrieving
my haze-headed friend, you. this shining bark,
a Zen master's bronzy gong, calls you here,
entirely, now: bow-wow, bow-wow, bow-wow.
From "Sweet Machine: Poems" by Mark Doty
