By David Stallings © 2005
I park my truck under
cover, crack the windows
when I shop for groceries.
That way my companion lab
won’t get too hot while he waits
in the front seat.
I give Ted’s velvet ears a loving
tug, tell him it won’t be long.
I feel him out there while I shop,
consider getting him a treat,
but don’t.
Three years have passed
since he showed me
how […]
By David Stallings © 2005
for my partner, Andrea
Roaring guard demons assault
my truck in the gravel driveway.
They leap and froth,
relentless walkway shitters,
midnight snarlers, minions
of my neighbor.
Lizard brained, I jerk to a halt,
throw open truck door, counterattack
with insane barks and growls.
Dark swirl joins me from the left.
Andrea, usually delicate and reserved,
in full Kali shriek, turns vicious
brutes to tail tucked curs. […]
By David Stallings © 2003
Past Last Water Camp, my dog and I
wind up the north trail,
wading deep sprawls of snow
obscuring the way.
Left behind is my city job
and the softness of a woman at dawn.
Yet worries swirl
as I ascend through mist.
I cough a blaze onto the snow,
a shock of redness.
My lungs may be the end of me.
Route finding now, I […]