For My Dog/God, I Write
The dog, who does not know
the word, knows the world,
its body wise to the alphabet
of scents, the perfumed babble
of flowers, the daily broadcast
of rain. Its eye
is the locus of trust, a body
driven by discovery & satisfaction.
Feet stumbling on dirt & pebbles,
nose perpetually in the under
growth, the wayward heart
searches for some evidence of
music, in the unfurling
of vine & daylight, in the
crisscrossing of ants & a dark
burning underfoot.
If I sit still long enough
it overtakes me—
a rush of green spring,
a rupturing.
Clara Changxin Fang is originally from Shanghai, China. She received her MFA from University of Utah and a Master of Environmental Management from Yale University. Her poems have been published in Poet Lore, Literal Latte, Cold Mountain Review, and Verse Daily, among others. She is sustainability director at Towson University near Baltimore, Maryland.
Dog silhouette photo by Gail Johnson, courtesy Shutterstock.
