for Bear | inspired by Bronwyn Lovell




                                    What goes through your ticking toy-machine mind

                            as you burrow                                             beneath our shitty

      rental fence the landlords                                                       will never fix? What are you

               trying to achieve                                                               with this? I zip-tie

                   chicken wire,                                                                    plonk cinder blocks

          like I’m building                                                                       the Great Wall

             to cut off your                                                                      impossible escape

      routes but you still                                                                  Harry Houdini your way

 out of this straightjacket                                                              (I hope this isn’t

                       a straightjacket).                                                    Is it a game?

                         Or are you itching                                              to come find me? I get home

                   one day to discover                                                        you on the sidewalk.

                               You run up                                                            to me, tail wagging

            as ever. I like to think                                                                 a smile passes

                   over your face as                                                                  you think, Good job!

                    You found me!                                                                     We try again

   and I can’t help but cheer                                                                    when I hop the fence

                     and you look                                                                   so confused, cocking

your head like a barn owl                                                                    when you can’t squeeze

         through to join me,                                                                   applauding nothing.

  I know you love me,                                                                      so why do you poke holes

          in our          life?                                                                    Is it a digging instinct baked

      into your                                                                                      DNA from some distant,

       untamed past spent                                                                         rolling in the dirt?

                          I read this poem             	         aloud to                         you while you’re asleep

                   on your back, legs surfing the air, and I wonder if you dream of secret

                             portals to other dimensions. I want to know if you’re happy

                  but also need to keep you safe. I never want to come home to a house

                          that doesn’t have you in it, so I fill the gaps and fortify the defences

                                              against the unknown — a dog’s free will

                                                  (I hope this is the last time I find you

                                                 smiling up at me from the nature strip).