Wet Dog

It is
a slick      darkened-rain street
a collector
of night rain, dawn rain, rivulet thoughts seeking the gutter, the sluice

it is a zoo, an ark of invaginations
where thoughts pause and commotion accumulates
around this suburban quest, this neighborhood street    of     child-laughter oil and pets

a slow asphalt mound, gentle summit and street lamp
here stands a small dog wet and cold
      and illuminated by the tall beacons
      light slices the morning dark around her
           into kaleidoscopic gray and furry raindrop pearls

rain-light dog-shadow upon morning shadow upon morning,
her breath steams against her own cold

     ‘tink tink’
      the only sound in this illumination, her collar sings ‘tink tink’
      as she lifts her brown muzzle to a feral memory.

She was caught and painted by the rain, collected by the suburban street
this particular moment.

Regina Coll

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