Not a noble Dane––
still, the great weight of his head
rests upon my lap.
Tearing at a thread
white fluff of cotton comes free
disemboweled chew toy.
Even if I call
or jangle the lilting ball
breath, heavy as sleep.
Beneath the sofa
blown about by passing feet
a tumult of fur.
Giggling child
intoxicated by play
the dog relentless.
Streaks of saliva
dribble down the walls and dry
into a hard crust.
Windowpane headrest––
quotidian surveyor
anticipating.
Roughing up the leaves
to squirrel away a nut––
the aloof hound sleeps.
The dog creeps along
the fence, charting his way through
bothersome raindrops.
A sniff-searching stroll
down the crowded boulevard;
heads turn wildly.
Matthew Schultz (he/him) teaches Creative Writing at Vassar College where he also directs the Writing Center. He is the author of two novels: On Coventry and We, The Wanted. His recent poems have appeared in Rust + Moth, Thrush, and Juke Joint. He tweets @eireprof.