Song of the Seeing Eye Dog
by Alyce Wilson
I nose the curbed air. My woman
bends to touch me. I have licked that salty
trust. Her scent of orchid and mushroom
I know. And her feet by their rusty fall.
She wraps her fingers in my hair,
could find me in a brood of howls.
When the steel and plastic hushes
I uncrouch to tell her
Sister and we go.