Dufy, Raoul . Collioure . 1941 |
Allie
The stillness stalked the doghouse, whistled, whined each spring when beefsteaks grew, as if her blood returned to flesh. He took her there resigned, my loyal stray, betrayed and tricked. A flood of feelings came when garden beds were made. It's when I watched her bones turn into mud. The tiller toiled then stalled as if it paid respect to her. I'd plant the seeds and wait for ears to rise, arouse the birds in shade. I'd weed around the place she's laid, the fate that put her there, avoid the gate that kept her trapped. I cleared my eyes, my ears too late-- her death crept past my door, took all except her eyes, the sight that I could not accept. ©2000 Peggy Putnam Owen |