Dead Dog
Nina Kensicki
After the dog died, my dad finally put the house up for sale.
Mom had been gone for years, but to see
his one friend dead was the anchor
around his neck. He came in with streaks of salty
tears running down his face. We went out together to see the wind
ruffle the damp fur as the dog laid in our driveway. We waved
goodbye. I, thankful to move on, jumped into the waves
of the beach behind our house. The “for sale”
sign was up before dinner. That night a windy
storm blew our patio chairs out to sea.
My dad cried as he brought in the wooded, cracked, salty
remains. From my bedroom window I saw him throw a piece like an anchor
into the sea. The next week we had lots of people look. By the anchor
that hung above our fireplace was where my dad would wave
and stand the entire time. The realtor showed the salty
abode to prying neighbors not interested in the sale.
It was a beautiful home, right by the sea.
A home with perfect rolls of wind.
When they left dad drank more than ever before and the wind
heard his screams. They dropped into the ocean like anchors
not tied to a ship. He kept saying how he needed to leave the sea.
He couldn’t stand the sight of the waves
mocking him to join them and sail
to freedom and escape in the air filled with salt.
He hated and felt on his tongue the burning salt,
a reminder, and he hated the skin grinding wind.
He burnt the boat right after the dog, so he couldn’t sail.
All that was left was my mom’s favorite anchor
hanging above the fireplace. He considered feeding it to the waves
to stop the mocking and calling from the sea.
People who didn’t care began to notice and see
how crazy he was. He didn’t care which rubbed the salt
in the wound. He laughed and waved
the night he dropped me off at a friends before heading to our windy
house on a hill. He stared at that anchor
then lit a match that put to flames the sign marked “for sale”.
We looked for places for sale that weren’t by the sea.
The anchor that didn’t burn reminded my father of the salty
wind and waves we left behind.
