Hours before the divorce was final, the day
the divorce became final, I woke, knowing the dream
I had just dreamt could not be touched, the dream
in which my daughter took the form of a half-dog,
half-human, the dream in which my half-dog,
half-human daughter did not know she was dying
and had to be put down, her slow, slow dying
unable to interrupt her continuous smile, her Like this,
Daddy? as she tried to make me laugh, her Like this,
Daddy? though she already had been shot
to stop her suffering, her body calming, already shot
in the dream that real hours later became the day.
This poem is supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts.
