Last week, my friend Caitlyn and I saw Andrea Gibson. Her poetry and her performance were amazing. She has such a fierce presence on stage, you forget she’s a tiny little thing.

She did an hour of poetry – an hour! Of the poems she did I especially loved this one. Before she read it she said, “This is the best love poem I’ve ever written.”

After the show Andrea autographed my books for me (I have two of her poetry collections) but when I asked her to take a picture she grabbed my hand and said, “I’m really sorry, normally I would but tonight I have a migraine and so I have to decline pictures.” Having suffered through a six-month headache in 2014 I assured her I absolutely understood. Then I told her I loved her poetry.

Caitlyn was patiently waiting beside me with her camera in hand to snap a picture of Andrea and I. While we didn’t get that picture, Caitlyn did snap one prior, she calls it Standing Party to a Conversation Between Poets.

Standing Party to a Conversation Between Poets

Standing Party to a Conversation Between Poets

 

After the reading Caitlyn and I headed back to my place, talking about the reading and poetry in general. After hearing Andrea Gibson read her letter to her dog I knew I needed to write another poem to my beloved pooch, Daisy. I wrote her a poem for her 11th birthday, but she’s awfully special to me so she deserves another. This poem is based off something that happened a few months ago when my dog ate pot brownies (they weren’t mine and they were for medicinal purposes – it doesn’t really matter to me but I thought I’d clarify).

The Day My Dog Ate Pot Brownies                                                                     

You started knuckling

as we walked, unable to control

your limbs, your paws flipped

over, the pads toward the sky.

Useless.

I scooped you up and ran.

Depositing you inside you began

to seize, setting off an earthquake

in my heart.

When I handed you to their waiting

arms I felt like I was handing off

my child.

 You weren’t born from my body

but you were born from my heart.

You are the best parts

of me without any of the heaviness

to hold you down.

 When they finally let me see you

you stumbled forward, the drugs

racing through your veins to counter

the ones you’d consumed.

Even in that drunk-high

state you staggered forward

at the sound of my voice.

I held you till they pulled me

away. I paced the floor,

the aftershocks rippling through me,

till I knew the heart

in your chest would keep pounding.

 One day, when I say goodbye

to you forever, I’ll weave

through the rubble you left

in my chest and the city I’ll rebuild

will be stronger because of you.