April 4, 2021 § Leave a comment
Today, in Diane Zinna’s Grief Writing Workshop, we spent 14 minutes writing about our pets; silent witnesses to the grief we bear. With instant recall, It has been too long ago for me to think about the poodles that had birthed two litters of puppies beneath my bed. Instead I wrote about my mother’s passing, whose anniversary was this week and I forgot to note it.
Here is an ode to my mother:
If You Were A Pet
If you were a pet, you would have brown straight hair
and a white spot on your back, near an upright tail.
You would not be proud to show off a spot that
marked you as special.
If you were a pet, you would have sat quietly until you were given
permission to eat from your shiny monogrammed bowl.
You would not let the smell of the delicious food cause you to act,
you knew your place.
If you were a pet, you would have been loved and well cared for,
never revealing mischievousness or the excited sound of your bark.
The drool of happiness from your tongue and wide-open mouth
would not be yours, always well behaved,
the price you paid.