I wish I could tell if she was having
a nightmare or a happy dream, this
little dog who lost her leg. Sprawled
on the bed beside me, she suddenly
hiccups muffled barks and her small
body shudders suggested seizures.
Is she dreaming a capture, facilitated
by the vanished limb that was her fate?
Is she purging a deep dread, writhing
to tear herself from a predatory jaw?
If so, I will wake her up mid-gnaw and
clasp her close. But if she gallops free
in the long, precancerous grass, lungs
savoring sweet air at breakneck speed,
let her be. Allow her the powerful dawn
in lucid reverie, the same as mine when
in sleep I realize I’m moving adroit and
solo—no cane, walker, or chair—smooth
and unimpaired, the unencumbered me.
                        

on a cool night that
belongs to the moon
a loop that swings
away and back to home
where satellites await
a mate who shores her
when she sags     the
prowl for love complete
their child an anchor in
her heart   indelible and
sweet    the pet whose
certain feet direct her
pondering    blessings that
freed her from the leash
away from the toxic
preoccupation that once
stifled her creation    life
is flawed and fruitful
stars of gratitude
flicker in her chest
inspiration and peace