A Dog Poem

Poems, poets, poetry!
I’m calling you out.
We’ve got a whole skeleton to pick.

Sick of your lessons and morals,
your loud slogans
about changing the world.

All I want from a poem now
is a shy approach; let it tug
on my hem.

All I want from poets is for them
to let their poems off the leash
and let them go where they want —

not every dog needs to hunt or herd.
All I want from poetry —
to feel against my hand

the nuzzling of an absolute,
necessary companion
who neither barks nor whimpers

but who would save my life
without question if I was drowning,
burning, falling, gone.