Alan Michael Parker is an American poet, novelist, professor, raconteur, born 1961.
THE DOG MISSES YOU
Alan Michael Parker
The dog goes out to look for you. She circumnavigates the
yard. She has been practicing saying, I love you, in every
language. Aku sampeyan, the dog practices saying in
Javanese. Te iubesc, the dog practices saying in Romanian.
The dog digs a hole along the fence. She’s so funny when
she digs, all that dirt flying. The fence could be Time.
There is surely a different world on the other side of it. Are
you over there?
In the afternoon the dog pulls the leash so hard she almost
lifts off the ground, but you aren’t to be found. Later, at
night, the dog puts her blocky head upon the kitchen floor
and sleeps, one soft and floppy ear pressed to the linoleum,
listening.
The dog has been practicing saying, I’m lost, in every
language. Kuv poob, the dog practices saying in Hmong.
Mi estas perdita, the dog practices saying in Esperanto.
The dog has three wishes. She wishes she knew where to
find you. She wishes you would come home with a treat.
She wishes you and I were together on the bed, and up she
would jump.