One or Two Stones

 By Jude Goodwin
Published: Feb. 4, 2012

 

One or two stones

 I took my little dog

out on the scooter tonight

she peered around my leg

ears blown back

typical little dog ears

and warm little 

dog body pressed

outward, longing

for ground. Sometimes

when I start thinking

about unremarkable

things like

little dogs

something profound

might surprise me

and then I get to stuff

the dog in her kennel

and rush to my pen

but here it’s already 

past ten and she’s still

on my lap, one or two stones

and the occasional ruff.

 

Rules of wishing

 

You may only wish 

on bones, candles

shooting stars 

(but not airplanes)

dandelions when gone

to seed, eyelashes 

if lost. You can wish

for the same thing

three times but not

four hundred and seventy-two

times and your wish will never

come true if you tell

your best friend, especially

her. You can wish

when you see your first star

usually north near home

and a wish’s power doubles

if you make it at 11:11. These rules

were passed to me 

by a dodo bird, an unexpected gift

and I post them here

for you to read. Mad with hope

and mouth full of comfits, it’s obvious

you need instruction.

 

A Bit Blurry

 

I found my eyeglasses 

in the middle of the back yard,

half chewed half broken,

and the little dog wagging

her tail so happy I’d come outside.

I picked up the glasses, expensive

plastic and lenses vital

to my livelihood, and I picked up

the little dog, her smooth belly

against my arm, her face

a bit blurry, and walked with them

across the spring-warmed

lawn, past the salmonberries 

pushing out their pink tongues,

past the furry willows,

back into the kitchen where coffee

perked and Sunday’s paper

waited on an old oak table.

“I’m going to need some tape.”

I announced and closed 

the garden door.