Lily

Minimalism appeals to the
neat-freak in me.
I like my world orderly,
and my ribs not-too-spare.

So it is with awe that
I watch my old girl
work every last piece
of meat off that humble bone.
She ravages it with grace.

There is graying around
her eyes, and she is
hard of hearing these days.
I’ve read that dogs also
get dementia.

How easily she slips in
and out of sleep these
days, how slow her gait.
But I will wait until she tells
me it’s time to go,
and with no regrets
I will let her.

I will have her cremated
and her ashes scattered
at sea where I can visit
her at my favorite place,
the unpredictable sea, with
the healing waves crashing
all around me, constant as
her erratic heartbeat.

 

Sherrie Gonzales-Kolb