July 23, 2021

i can’t seem to make my fingers type,
my brain to process,
my mind to wake up,
my body to…do anything but crave coffee.

i passed the 100th day of writing daily poetry
and of course i forgot all about it
in favor of writing a poem that was relatively mundane,
but also full of hope and potential and change
and, ultimately, relatability.

i assumed i’d write about the 100 days
(and subsequent forgotten anniversary)
the following day,
the one hundred and first day,
look back on the full hundred days,
look forward towards two hundred and sixty four more
but Louka needed us
badly
yesterday
so we were with her,
and my only poem was an invocation
a hope
that everything would be okay.

while it’s not perfectly okay now,
it’s not terrible.
still scary
for all of us,
but it’s not a stroke,
it doesn’t seem neurological,
and we’ll continue sleeping on the couch next to her
and carrying her up and down our fourth floor Brooklyn walk-up
for as long as we all need.

because
our dog
is the goodest dog,
she is,
and we would do anything and everything for her,
including buying a house.

July 22, 2021

i wish
i could say
to my dog
‘it’s okay,
i’m here to help you,
i won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again’

i wish
i could say
to my dog
‘it’s okay,
the loud noises on the street
that you can’t see with your cataract eyes
aren’t here to hurt you at all.’

i wish
i could say
to my dog
‘it’s okay,
your legs are just asleep,
if you let me hold you and massage your hips
and give it time
you’ll be back up to acting like a puppy in no time’

but she doesn’t understand
foolish english
so, instead, i use calming tones
(and dog-calming music)
and gently smooth her fur
while murmuring
‘it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…’
and hope that gets the idea across.

June 23, 2021

another adventure
another setting out
this time for something
not quite as happy
but hopefully fulfilling
and connecting
and kind.

~~~

there are studies
that show
the earlier you deal with death
the better
(or so much worse)
you are at handling any death
as an adult.

i solidly fall into the second category,
my brain short circuiting whenever death is present
whenever someone is grieving
my go-to comfort is
to leave them alone.

but when you’re not a pre-teen
figuring out exactly what you need,
most folks would opt for connection
for a few words of comfort
not alone time.

so
after months of watching back episodes of
“Ask a Mortician”
and
reading her books
and
listening to her podcast
i’ve figured out a better way of dealing with death:

i ask the grieving person
what their favorite memory is of their loved one.
i specify they don’t have to share with me,
(but i’d be happy to hear if they choose),
but to simply think of their favorite memory.

i’ve only had two opportunities to use it so far,
but both felt connective,
kind,
and i felt useful
(all i really want to feel anyway)

so,
anyone grieving,
(or having gone through grief),
what’s your favorite memory of that person?

~~~

our dog
staring at her food
for minutes upon minutes
as if she’s having an existential crisis

(what a way for the universe to show us she belongs with us)

June 20, 2021

though we all loved the green
and the adventures
and the folks
we saw last week
(Louka especially)
i, for one, feel more myself
with this particular cat
back on my lap
once more.

~~~

motion alarms
sometimes useful
sometimes just a bee
trying to say ‘hi’

~~~

ranked choice voting
is here
(the giant booklet tells us)

early voting ends today
and though we will still be in town
for the actual election
we’ll probably vote early

because who knows what’ll happen on tuesday
but at least we know that
we’re free today

June 13, 2021 (part 2)

our dog
is a beach dog
but not an ocean dog

although

she treats the sand like snow,
rolling around in it,
licking it up and eating it,
rolling around some more in order to get out of her eyes that sand from the first roll

and even though we had to pull her away from that joy,
and even though we had to rinse out her eyes so they would stop swelling,
it was worth it to see her jump around like a puppy
(and to see folks’ faces erupt in surprise when we tell them
“this dog is thirteen years old [today]!”)

~~~

i didn’t realize
love languages show up
so early

but damn if that
less-than-two-year-old
didn’t hand off his juice,
and blanket,
and bag of apples
the minute he decided
he liked us.

~~~

arriving home
far too late
making eye contact
with a young buck
as he munches on leaves,
hardly concerned we’re twenty feet away
(as my dog remains frozen with the decision
of whether to chase this creature
as friend or prey)

June 12, 2021 (part 2)

travels usually take
hours upon hours upon hours
(our go-to vacation spots/chill with family spots
have historically taken 8-ish hours.)
(tack onto that traffic/stops with dog/
my tiny bladder/
mostly traveling in seasons bombarded with snow;
our bodies are prepared for travel
to be the only event in a day.)

so when a “vacation trip” takes four/four and a half hours
(five-fifteen with stops/the traffic that inevitably erupts around nyc)
there is an excess of energy when we arrive at our destination.

but the question for tonight was:
“is that enough to meet one young child and two toddlers?”

and the answer was,
unequivocally
“yes!”

[although the dog with bows through her fur
may profess otherwise]

May 8, 2021

An Ode To The Nicknames We Give Our Animals.

A toast to Louka
The Goodest of Dogs
(The Stinkiest of Dogs)
The Silliest and Smartest
And Goofiest
Our Little Louka
Our LoukaLou
Our Loukaloukaloukalou-kah
Kalouah
Good Dog
Booboosousa
HassleDog
Louka

A toast to this Cat
Mowgli
The Mowgs of us all,
The Actual, OG, HassleAnimal
HassleCat
TrashCat
The Fluffiest
The Shed-iest
The Tubby Tum Tum
Mo-go-go-gali
mmmmmOOOWGLI
Stinkiest
Too Smart For Her Own Good
Mowgli

September 14, 2020

[a letter to Louka the dog]

i hope, Louka, you are enjoying this vacation
and you find it a nice respite
from the loud scary traffic of New York

and i hope, Louka, you won’t be too devastated
when, in five days, we go back home
and no longer have forests to explore
and backyard decks to hang out on
and clean breezes to fill your lungs with.

and mostly, Louka, i hope that you do love us
and in everything are having a better life
than your first six years.

September 10, 2020



if only the heavy

[pitter]patter of the rain

falling all around us

calmed down my dog

as much

as

it excites my very being



i suppose i shall simply be content

in the fact that

she looks to us for comfort.

May 24

every day i fall in love with
every stray dog i see

every night i wish i could gently shush
every stray dog
i hear