When my dog was very young I gifted him a pair of socks - Amanda Williams

he held them gently in the cradle of his mouth

like a Faberge egg suspended in the sky on sterling spoon

his tail a cyclone lifting dust from sandy carpet

now he covets the ground I walk on, socks in his mouth a souvenir

commemorating how it feels to rise each day

with more love than you started with

I hand him a wad of them: fresh cotton

acrid earth, a hint of camembert laced

with dewdrops of sweat and shea

his lion mane, sweet belly upturned

to pastel heaven as he buffs out my jagged corners

my anima mirrored in inked pupils

silken plush under my fingers, I wonder what it’s like

to love unencumbered even

the noxious parts of me