Member-only story
Poetry
Doors
Last night I kept the door firmly closed,
with my two dogs safely contained with me,
in my friend’s house full of ginger cats,
and one coal-black part Siamese.
In the darkest part of the night,
I really needed to find the bathroom.
As I squeezed through the narrow gap,
my chow-pit-lab Lola bulldozed past my ankles,
followed by her sister, Birdie. Since I didn’t hear
any sudden ruckus and I really had to pee,
I dashed into the bathroom, leaving the door open.
And the second I really got going, the ginger tabby
flew by in a yellow streak, followed by Lola,
then Birdie, gallumping up the stairs in hot pursuit.
I called to them sternly and tried to finish quickly,
but some things absolutely can’t be hurried.
The dogs came back, the cat stayed out of reach,
and we all went back to the bedroom.
Behind the closed door, I got no sleep,
and soon the neighborhood roosters began
to crow, an hour, at least, before daylight.
My rough night became a rough morning,
in which I felt every single entity in the world
was against me. “Be prepared for an emotional
tidal wave,” my horoscope said. It wasn’t a lie.
But on hot days, my super-smart border collie-
heeler-etc. loves to lay in the coolest room
in the house. I leave the door open, always,
and every time I walk down the hallway,
past the open door, Birdie wags her tail,
thump, thump, thump, against the bed,
reminding me that someone loves me.
And sometimes, that’s enough.
