Circus Dog

Jump, bark, challenge 
My authority
As you enter my life and 
Try to take over

Just a dog from the 
Animal shelter 
With no place to call home
Much like me

No place to call home
Drifting everywhere 
No roots to plant
Or debts to repay

Only the circus
Accepts us 
who are different, strange
And demand rights

Yet there you stood
Begging for adoption
When everything was against us
Twilight seemed dim 

You worked out okay
Me, too, since night was day
And you wanted to rule
But you learned

So why not stay 
Circus Dog
Stay until dawn and play
With the befuddled cat

I did not know you
Would appear so sweet 
Cocking your head to one side
To draw me in, to love you

And that I did, so you won 
The game we play
Each night as you demand 
I throw your toy for a fake pursuit

–Victoria Emmons, copyright 2017

Morning of a Different Kind

Wet nose nudges me
In the morning
Tells me a new day
Is about to launch

I groan for it is early
My brain not awake
My body too heavy
To face tomorrow

Dawn will not allow me
To linger too long in
The comfort of my pillow
Warmth of my covers

Outside of the bedding
Lies grief and pain
Too much sorrow
An empty world

I hide in my blanket
A castle of safety
Far away from
Impending storms

Wet nose a memory
A mere dream
Of what was
Will be no more

So on this day
This new year
Mourning
Of a different kind

In memory of Allie, 2001-2014

–Victoria Emmons, © 2014

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Suburbia

What do you do in Suburbia
when the sky
turns rain time blue
at 2 in the afternoon

and the wind
blows the moss
horizontal for the first
time in months

and the trees
rub against
each other’s boughs
heralding a storm

and the hard, wet
sounds of rain
hit the asphalt
on your street

What do you do in Suburbia
when you wish
you had an Andrew Wyeth field
to run in, but

all you can see is
a concrete gutter
and 14 neat rectangles
of prescribed lots

when you strain to
hear the thunder
but your neighbor’s
mower drowns you out

and you look to see
sky and Earth touch, but you can’t
because TV antennae and dogs
let out to toilet are in the way

What do you do in Suburbia
wait until the cursed shower
hangs on every leaf
and disguises humankind

–Victoria Emmons © 1979

Open Doors for Baudelaire

BaudelaireI will not be ruled by my cat. No more is he allowed to curl up in the warmth of my lap. No longer is he invited to live under my roof. I brought him home five years ago when he only seven weeks old. The cute, little champagne kitten stood out from the rest of the litter in the cage that day. I only needed one kitten. That’s all. But the volunteer with the pet shelter convinced me I should have a pair. This kitten would need a playmate, she advised.

I have had cats for over half a century. I know all about cats. Or so I thought. I did know the volunteer’s suggestion had merit. Kittens like to play with one another, especially when I am off at work and they would be otherwise all alone. Having a playmate helps keep them from climbing curtains, scratching furniture and other untoward behavior.

Continue reading

Rescue

Birdie

Birdie

The Saturday morning market attracted the usual crowd eager for organic vegetables and people watching. My shopping bag was heavy with zucchini, golden beets, white corn, a potato or two, and a paper bag of Cremini mushrooms. The farmer’s market is the best place to buy fig vinegar and some of Sister Sarah’s homemade canned tomatoes. I couldn’t take home much else. Or so I thought. Continue reading

LED Morning

Three blue fives
Reconcile time
For the morning

Down the stairs
Follow green glow
To the kitchen

Red embers
Lighten the room
Draw me near

In the darkness
Inspire me to
Press new words

Cats follow
Interrupt thought
Cries of need

Feed the hungry
To satisfy
And fulfill

Flash of red
Dull warning
Signals light

Renew thought
An addiction
To e-mail

–Victoria Emmons, 2009