My sister's Chihuahua in heat
by Kristen Stone
humps the golden lab, that majestic old man
his white eunuch’s face twisting only slightly in disgust
as she rubs her bird’s hips on his leg, his tail.
Once his face. She knows this comes from somewhere
but where?
It is a big joke to everybody
we call her nasty, tell her she’s a girl dog
that’s not how it works, Ophelia
but I understand the way she sneaks
running to her companion the big white dog
long-suffering to her brown bat self;
the way she looks at him for a moment
seeking fulfillment and I wonder
at my changed, farmer relationship
to evolutionary science.
her big ears perk and she runs desperately
checking that nobody’s looking:
three week’s shouts of Fifi he doesn’t like that and
you’re a girl have not made her stop
but she has learned to look before leaping into coitus
her small brain knows:
don't get caught longing.