barefootliam

[Tuna was our Samoyed rescue dog, who died of internal injuries a year after being hit by a car] We carried her out on an oaken bier gilt with gold, painted in red, drawn by five horses and—no, instead We carried her out on black velvet strung over two poles, accompanied by minstrels playing a solemn dirge. No, we carried her out in our arms, blood-soaked, face frozen in a scream, and laid her in a wheelbarrow. No, she ran out, danced lightly down the steps, smiled back at us one last time and was gone. The day Tuna died—her given name was Moonglow but who the hell wants to be called Moonglow?—was mid-winter, but, unwontedly, unexpectedly, a day above freezing. We wheeled her—four eunuch slaves carried her high in her palanquin— the carriage-horses neighed and stamped their feet in the cold—Tuna ran happily up to the long grass by the vegetable garden and waited for us to reach her, slowly pushing the garden wagon through the snow, carrying shovels. The day that Tuna died it

Juliette closed the window behind her and stepped quietly, carefully, onto the porch roof, shoes crunching in the fresh snow. The bedroom light came on seconds after she’d dropped to the ground. She ran unseen, unheard, a happy memory in the night.“Andrew, are you asleep?” “No, dad, working on history.”But in the day when Andrew was at school, his mother cleaned the room and, looking out through the window, saw footprints in the snow.Andrew’s lesson was that Juliette’s visits were history.

All the day’s taunts     trickle         down the window-pane Leering boys     throwing         cat-calls hard as hail Rain brings dark mud     oozing         words I can’t forget Warm window-seat     purring         clutching hot chocolate Hatred blows hard     whistling         but the window’s shut. Raindrops combine     crying         into streams, but— Doorbell dripping     blowing         warm and happy charms Window-blinds close     on rain;         warm winds, strong arms.