My Name is Witness: Ode to Kiah

My name is witness.
I am called so by all.
I watch you spinning
by my feet in haste
and watch you go by
slow in circles around
my head nodding too.
My name is patience.
A heartbeat proves it.
Fear never outpaces
for I have no worries
to chase in nighttime
tooth-losing slow-mo
nightmare of despair.
My name is yearning.
Senses cry longingly.
Your eyes miss mine
though my face sees
every move you are
each word you make
and I do wait for them
your eyes your hand
your stroke of smile
and grin of hands on
this back and neck
ears and nose and
belly and butt of tail.
I am yours though
you are not mine.
I belong to you.
You not to me.
I am dog.
I am.


Ode to Having a Day


Dread of the day,
nerves riotous with din
banging pots to pans
shot up in shrieking whelps
foul curs whipped in vicious plea,
I want to peel off the skin
relieve the abominable itchiness
a laceration of seconds too soon.
Of a morning departed the plan
I awoke ablaze in palpable bliss
womb-like in submersion
in a warm Caribbean sea
effortlessly afloat
holding your hand,
you who I love like my sight,
all was nothing wrong with us.
The morning ripped you from me
howl of desperation,
grasping the air
as if I could hold the leaving back.
Later the roach fell from the sky
next to my plate
while the high-whine complaint
grated of nothing so bad
in metronomic persistence,
accelerating the urge
cutting ears from my head
ceasing the catatonic shrill
the dog whistle blasts
that only I could hear.
And but for the crowding
penetrating roots of teeth
clamping my jaw shut
I would have uttered seethe.
But then, when the printer
my last hope and hoop
and step through
to meet deadline
broke down,
so did I
just as
the sky
fell rain.