Run, then, in sleep, this bed a gleaming sward
and bright, in sleep the only country where
your legs are whole, and push you ever toward
me smiling, and away, the morning air
ruffles your coat, your eyes gleam clear and wide.
You turn sharp corners quickly, pace precise,
ears flattened, shoulders tucked, that racing stride,
then flying like a skater over ice
and to my side again. Run, then, in sleep
and I will leave you sleeping there a while
your forefeet’s subtle quivers as you leap,
your clouded eyes creased hard into a smile,
and run myself, awake. Our time has flown,
and I must do my running now alone.

1. 
   ilyka 2006 10 09 at 4:38:19 am

   Tell me this is only what you wrote to prepare yourself for it, and not the actual thing.  I don’t want your time with Zeke to have flown just yet.

   I have never loved a dog like you love this dog and so I can’t pretend to know exactly; but I have loved a cat who went before I was ready for him to go, and it isn’t something I’d wish on anyone else.

2. 
   Rob G 2006 10 09 at 7:37:46 am

   Ilyka, dogs often seem to dream of running, given how their bodies move in sleep. Zeke dreamed, Chris ran and then wrote this lovely poem. Well, that’s my interpretation.

3. 
   Chris Clarke 2006 10 09 at 10:42:48 am

   Literal sleep, dreamed running, very slow walk down to the park together about to take place.

   I’m pretty sure I won’t be cryptic when he goes.

4. 
   Joanna 2006 10 09 at 11:06:13 am

   This is a beautiful poem.

5. 
   Jane 2006 10 09 at 11:22:34 am

   Beautiful poem, Chris.  I’d love to meet Zeke one of these days (since I’ve had such a crush on him).  Maybe you could take him for a nice, slow walk to the Pinole Farmer’s Market on Saturday. (I have a booth there. I’ll throw in a free bar of handmade soap for the chance to see Zeke!)

6. 
   Charles 2006 10 09 at 1:17:58 pm

   What a beautiful sonnet.

7. 
   the_bone 2006 10 09 at 4:55:38 pm

   The last two lines broke my heart.  Lovely poem.

8. 
   Lauren 2006 10 09 at 6:21:10 pm

   Don’t scare me like that.

   Lovely poem, regardless, but then, you knew that.  xo

9. 
   Rob G 2006 10 10 at 5:32:49 pm

   spyder, have you tried sleeping on your stomach with your feet hanging over the edge of the bed? Works for me and my horror-show of a knee.

   I’m picturing us sitting on a park bench, canes in hand, comparing injuries as we feed the pigeons. And swearing at the young ‘uns as they skateboard by.