Poems Poem by John Paul Davis :: Art by Andy Farkas

Some days I can feel you almost physically near
as if you were a great bear
walking my footpath of days with me,
hot-breathed, snuffling out my trail.
Almost too wide for sidewalks, your hilly
hindquarters rolling with each deep-pawed step.

Other days I know your presence
less by sight than by when I find
myself furry-minded, turning and turning
to the corner of my eye, certain of something
moving beyond the range of normal sight.

And then there are the dreams,
where I float along a game-run
to the crackling of a river choir
and you, seated on a wet rock,
royal snout on your paw.
What you’re thinking, I don’t know,
but a fear and joy rises in my floating
dream-self, anticipation of when your paw
swipes deftly down into water
to rescue the flapping gleam of a fish
swallowing it into new life.
There is the endless ink of the universe
in your eyes and I hover at the woods’ edge,
knowing I am the fish, awaiting your holiest of mouths.