In Their Language
for Cody
Last night in dream you spoke to me
in English – so unlike a dog, but that’s how
dreams are.
You reminded me of all those trips
we took together:
in the bow of a jon-boat, wind
in our face, an eastwind to bring you scent
draining off the mountains, or rising
from underwater, all of August to a search-
dog’s nose.
On April hardpan, footprints dissolving
as you unraveled sun from shadow, the truth
of disappearances.
Dogs and places superimposed
upon each other in dream, as if I could peel away
layers to get at the stories:
the man who drowned;
the woman who became rock-fall.
You reminded me: that last trip
to the vet, your leash dead in my hands.
Even in dream, dogs don’t complain.
Maybe it wasn’t English, after all,
but the common language
of leaving.
~ Taylor Graham
from What the Wind Says (www.lummoxpress.com)