CLOQUE!

Hollow "CLOQUE!" The dog's teeth
nimbly glom a milkbone
from my hand.

[Note: Fun to find spelling for sounds. No, he wasn't a French poodle, just a big streamlined black mutt, but somehow the look of "oque" conveys the robust richness of the sound of his teeth on the bone. Whatever this poem may mean to you, to me it's a kind of love poem. And it's about trust, for despite the vigor of the sound, despite his toothy avidity, those big teeth never touched my hand, even when the milkbone was small and even though the bite was quick. I knew he wouldn't bite me, and that knowledge became part of the pleasure I took in those full, but precise sounds ("cloque" and "glom"). I trusted him as he trusted me. Look, Reader! Two hands!]

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Dean Blehert
Blogs:http://deanotations.blogspot.com (short poems)
http://dearreader08.blogspot.com (essays and longer poems)
WWW.BLEHERT.COM