Going Back to Chicago

A dog’s eagerness to have you home again.

Photo by author.

In the sweet potatoes topped with marshmallows,
in the crunchy stuffing and cranberry sauce,
and in mom’s pumpkin bread that disappears,
I relive the shock of my wheat loaf,
left on the counter for a second,
and swiftly stashed in your belly.

In the crushing goodbye hugs,
in the pounding of the taxi ride
to the suffocating security line,
and later, the bouncing Blue Line,
I feel the thumping of your paws on my chest.

Now, looking down at the tilt of your head,
the dark eyes, reddish with sadness,
and ears like alert chevrons to each side,
eagerly you sit as I unpack,
I can’t tell whether you love me more
or the bone in my backpack.

Previously on Scribe:

Pleas to a Poet

A Butterfly Kissed Me Today