Morning Dog

MORNING DOG ~ rough draft!
by April Halprin Wayland

In the morning
I shake my new collar sharply
and look up to see if the mound moves.

If it has,
if it has not,
either way

I wander to the bedside
sniff, sniff, sniff
working my nose under the blanket.

Asking.

If she lifts the blanket
I’m good.
It’s morning.

Otherwise
it must not be
and I wander back to my post and lie down.

If she lifts the blanket
she’ll also open her mouth at me
breathing out.

Oh,
what a good and glorious gift!
Morning breath.

This one’s a Mask poem, which means that it’s from the point of view of an animal or inanimate object.

Bruce comments:

“Not bad. I liked it.  Alene thought it was a bit gross at the end.  I liked it.”

I wish it was shorter.  How I admire those who can be concise, like my niece,
Julia Halprin Jackson who writes entire stories in 100 words!