Rough

Rough      

Tearing yourself loose

from a lifelong

pack of lies

—is hard enough.

But at least

you’ve got those

ice-gray eyes,

snapping, pink-foamed

jaws and that

high articulate howling

right behind you—

Each vivid reminder

of lethality helps

legs and lungs,

forcing them on

when you can’t.

It’s the other

side of savagery

that’s more troublesome.

When a whimpering

makes you turn

and in the

grovel of soft

gray fur you

discern nothing more

drastic than yips

and licks, upturned

bare bellies and

squirmy abashed grins,

just a muddle

of big dumb

puppies craving the

rubs you’ve withheld.

That’s when running

suddenly becomes much

more human, more

familiar—and, yes,

much more rough.