An old blonde dog takes care of me.
I found him starving in the snow.
His face is scarred, his hips protrude.
His joints are stiff. Doddering along,
he lists a bit, and more and more
he is incontinent.
Yet when I’m most alone, he brings me
his old polar bear, the sock
he likes to chew. His white chin fits
my darkest aches, and settles there.