Jake's Flea Market

yard dog
open your eyes

open the full measure of sorrow that is
the touch of basset in you

that sorrow will neither increase
to your eyes nor
when you gallop up the driveway   bark joy
at the return of the car that carried away
the bossman   the wife   the son   the daughter

when you run and leap the happy lab in you
in circles around the car stopped 

when you wag your tail from your leather
collar back   at the doors of the car opened

that sorrow won’t leave

that sorrow will remain in your eyes constant
until the touch of basset in you ebbs   out

sorrow open