Going. Going. Gone
The slim white form
slips her leash, is gone in an elegant
instant, up the hill, not even pausing
at the one word she must know:
her name.
An adventure! Charging through
brush, rolling in the scent of deer, the
dung tastier than any kibble,
erase all traces of what you are or
could be, stalk the two jackrabbits that live on the hill, forget you
have a home, a warm bed
treats of liver brownies.
pant your way up the long pull of
driveway, not the least but apologetic
and glance at your worried
humans who have never been
able to run this fast, against the air
the sun, the total day
this far.
~Adrianne Marcus
