my house smells of bone
I pick up two shits a day
cleanly, in hand-sized baggies.
six feet climb the stairs
six feet clatter down them.
a pair of deep brown eyes
bores into me as I attempt to
send a text, to
unpack the shopping, to
stare into space.

Rainy winter days are punctuated by
the neccessary outings
the ticking of boxes:
– exercise
– mental stimulation
– wees and poos
– bond-building
– snuggles
…and time apart.

It is not a friendship,
not a business transaction,
not a love affair,
not a baby.

it is a mutual agreement of companionship
a negotiation of labours
a strange platonic marriage
between this human, me,
exhausted and sad,
and you,
small canine beast
curious, playful, one year alive.

How will we live together, you and I?
How shall we co-exist
within this power-play, a required-by-law
inequality? can i live
with this new role of curtailment and control?

Your head rests between my thighs
my hand strokes a velvet ear.
two bodies at rest, newly together.
“Who are you?”
I cannot tell if the sigh
is yours or mine.