In Dog Dreams

by Karla K. Morton
Featured Art: 

I run,
palms like paws on the earth,
muscles, long and sinew.

I smell wet clover,
the musk of home,
cooking meat.

I do not think about tomorrow
or yesterday,
but I remember the cactus
and the snake,
and the music of your voice
even when language fails.

And when I wake, I roll
to the nest of your shoulder.

Your arm does not reminisce
when it first wrapped my waist,
yet it comes to me;
heals even as you sleep.

I feel the peace of gravity;
the subtle spin of planet;
the rise of the mountain.

In Dog Dreams,
I have known no other hand;
no other time
when I wasn’t yours,
or you, mine.

Whoop! you call in the deepening forest.
Whoop! my descant back.

Karla K. Morton was the 2010 Texas Poet Laureate and has written twelve collections. Her work has been published by Alaska Quarterly Review, Southword, and Boulevard. She is currently on a Words of Preservation: Poets Laureate National Parks Tour with fellow Texas Poet Laureate, Alan Birkelbach, visiting the National Parks to help culturally preserve them. A percentage of sales from the forthcoming book will benefit the Parks System.

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