Bread and Blood

Dog's Love

She waits in the dark.

The beloved always returns,

his clothing penetrated

with the odor of others.

She nuzzles his groin,

not to explore the others;

they are irrelevant.

She drinks him, and is filled.

Is the dog's love diminished,

if the beloved is unworthy?

Love is always worthy.

The beloved is diminished.

She brings him gifts.

He finds beside his head,

when he wakens,

the toy she offered in the night.

It is useless to him.

Did her head rest beside his in the dark,

drinking his breath like oxygen,

heady and vital?

Did he dream of her? Or she of him?

Is the dog's gift diminished by uselessness?

Man's trash, the bitch's treasure;

The widow's mite, richest gift.

The dog's love depends on the beloved.

It is the root of her being;

She depends upon it,

like the plant's root depends upon the soil.

Grounded in earth, the root feeds the plant.

Uprooted, the plant dies, nothing any more:

at best, food.

Is the dog's love demeaning?

Love is the meaning.

It gives her meaning;

It defines her worth to herself.

It is the beloved who must become worthy.

Poetry Writing Dancing Badger