Dog in the Rain
I’m thinking about time, the slow avalanche of insistence. The man singing in the rain below my balcony and the father you lost four months ago.
I’m thinking about the shape of your heart, the wound he left, gouged bloody. I’ve pushed against the edges, trying to skirt the bruise but stay inside. I must
be quiet long enough for you to think, to make space for yourself amidst your grief. The man in the rain drags his dog from corpse to corpse, birds, trash; cutting a curious shape
into the night. He seems happy, the way strangers always seem happier for no reason other than lack of familiarity. I close my eyes to see your face, the sun you’ve burned through
my darkness. I’ve been given so much. The man disappears into his apartment, and I’m alone in the night air. A drink on one side, empty chair beside me, waiting.
The Work of Dying
My sister says come now. I can’t afford it, but I do. Sleep on her couch with her massive puppy whose love is like a cyclone overwhelming a picnic.
My brother twitches in a hospital bed, unable to turn himself without a nurse. It’s excruciating, the constant motion, his nerves dying cell by cell. He is trying to climb a hill with no top.
His stomach aches all the time. The nurses want him to eat on his own as long as he’s able. Autonomy is important for mood. We bring sugary snacks, all of his favorites.
I go for extra ice, stand over him, bone thin, and feed him snack cakes and water. He gums them slowly, struggling to control his jaws. I wait with the next bite. I can’t speak.
We decorate his room, hang tinsel, a little tree, photos where he can see them. I’m here for two days. We stop by mom’s grave and polish the stone. On the way back
to my sister’s house, I tell her I blame myself for not being here. She can’t stop crying. It’s like I’ve fallen over the railing, sleep- walking, but I can’t hit bottom.
Raised on a rice and catfish farm in eastern Arkansas, CL Bledsoe is the author of more than thirty books, including the poetry collections Riceland, The Bottle Episode, and his newest, Driving Around, Looking in Other People’s Windows, as well as his latest novels Goodbye, Mr. Lonely and The Saviors. Bledsoe lives in northern Virginia with his daughter.