Rimbaud, Four Days Post Grooming
Is it a crime not to care?
Sometimes it is a crime not to care.
After the grooming, Rimbaud is snarling,
glazed-eyed, miserable. Wedges himself
into the carrying case he used to avoid.
Someone has hurt him? Of course someone
has hurt him. Then he had a good day, or two,
breezing the city streets, summer swinging,
but now he doesn’t raise his right ear
to the word “walk,” doesn’t glance up at
the rattling of his leash, doesn’t leap
to a treat. You know how he feels.
And you know how long it can go on.
Sometimes you wonder: what can we
do about this pain?
Sometimes you go to bed.
As for Rimbaud, give him another day.