Photocopies of a labradoodle
Dog poop soggy in the wet morning grass
Boysenberries fermenting on sidewalks
Ditch weed smoke flows from our neighbors’ windows
I take my kid outside to play with rocks
To pick out good sticks without too much moss
Scrape the poop from her shoe with a dead leaf
Wipe the dew from her ball with my jacket
Our dog is a dead ringer for Balto
Her hair, tri-colored, like thin nematodes,
worms through our house, the kitchen floor, the couch
We scoop her poop in bags, compostable
Pink lines where claws traced across my right arm
Aspire to the innocence of dogs