TRYING TO READ
SCRAAATCH- SCRAAATCH!
The cocker spaniel claws at my study door.
It's not that he wants to come in.
Or that he misses my charisma.
He simply despises barriers.
SCRAAATCH- SCRAAATCH!
Groaningly, I turn from the heart
of my story, about a woman trying
to run away.
I rise from my warm micro fiber couch,
the color of slate or regret
and open into the dog's pink panting,
shattering score of the Pitt-Syracuse game,
arm-flapping pierces of my husband,
steam-lifting lid of beef stew, and harsh
white whirling of the washer.
For a spiked moment, I hesitate--
like the two-minded woman
in Tyler's novel.
Should she stay
and drown in mediocrity?
Or disappear into dark rousings
of the city?
I sigh,
and slip silently back
into the humdrum
sounds
of my life.