This poem is an adaptation of real events; the memory associated with those events is very distinct in my mind, so I decided to take them and make them into something for others to interact with.
What inspired this poem was a little runaway dog that I just happened to recognize, so just like in the poem, I snatched him up and took him home. However, that particular day was an extremely emotional one for me, so when I wrote the poem, I infused that and adapted it to convey a deeper, more poetic meaning.
Visiting Angel
A dog in the road.
There is a dog
standing in the road.
I know this dog;
small, brown, hairy,
big, big brown eyes.
My car idles,
I turn it off,
get out.
Boots in the mud
making a sickly squishing sound
as I do what my mother
told me not to do.
But I know this dog.
Because I know this dog,
I scoop him up.
Mud from his belly
coats my arm,
my tears
pitter patter
onto his head.
I hope he thinks
It's rain.
He doesn't
squirm, bark, bite,
as I put him in the car,
close the door,
turn it on.
Rumble slowly down the road.
He sits peacefully in the bucket seat.
I pick a driveway,
turn ninety degrees.
My rusty car complains,
the dog does not.
He waits patiently
for me to
park, stand, walk,
open his door
lift him out,
hold him close against the cold,
go
walking, looking, listening,
for his person
who I find easily enough.
Are you ok?
I'm returning your dog.
He was standing in the road.
It's raining now.
I turn to the idling car
with one last glance at the dog;
he's looking at me blankly.
He doesn't know who I am,
but I know this dog.
I drive away.
