Becky Rus

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To The Dog Lying On The Couch

This is the couch
Kept from you
For at least a year
Maroon microfiber
Cushions untouched by hound hair
Even your rather large
Plum like nose
Shoved from the edge
Hands always swatting you away
From the cushions which hold
Pieces of crackers
A coin and flattened sock
The fabric so easily washed
Just dab with warm water
And the hair slides off you say
Edging up
As dogs often do
Warm to the side of a tired human
Who for a day
Does not care
Placing hand on your head
As you lay
Outstretched in full hound dream
Of squirrel and tree
Paws curl to chest
Then quickly kicking out to full run
Across this field

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