Day 17: A woman and a dog

I feel a little tired. My last two poems were compilations – one of words on food by various people and the other a cento of not my verses – and today it’s again somebody else doing all the work.

The fact that he is a dog shouldn’t change a thing. Dogs think too, just that I still don’t know if his thoughts are to be filed under fiction or non-fiction.

Christina Malman: Woman and a dog, 1935.

Miralem Zec: Woman and a dog, 2013. His first summer.

Today a lighter one in tone, or is it. Prompts were… peculiar. The first one pretty devastating, the second one… hahahhah. Giggly. I should inquire into Ms. Olds. Sounds like the same blood group.

Challenge 17: “Write a poem that similarly presents a scene from an unusual point of view. Perhaps you could write a poem that presents Sir Isaac Newton’s discovery from the perspective of the apple. Or the shootout at the OK Corral from the viewpoint of a passing vulture. Or maybe it could be something as everyday as a rainstorm, as experienced by a raindrop.”

A woman and a dog

 What does she mean,
 “All the people have gone”?

 Does this mean only the bears are left?
 

His second September.

And all those questions:
 “What was that?
 Did you hear something?”

 As if she is expecting an answer
 from a dog.
 
What does she mean,
 “Who had a pee here”?
 
Do I need to pantomime it? 
 
I wonder what she’d do
 if I howled suddenly,
 showed my fangs
 and tore up a pretend lamb.
 
I can’t help it, I smell things.
 
I know what she will do 
 before she does.
 
The way she prevents my barking
 is a breach of constitutional rights.

Two days ago.

She feeds me, 
 I give her that.

 She is nice, I suppose, 
 in a humanly way.
 
Alright then.
 
I’m not going to tell her 
 about that wolf 
 and how he peed on our gate.

An hour ago. Not our gate.

For Day 17 of NaPoWriMo