Socrates with Fleas
After his mom dropped him offhe attacked his tail like it didn’tbelong to him. So I scooped him up
ten pounds of resistance in my armsand Mike applied the chemical potioncareful not to sting his eyes while
I held him in the tub like a babyon my chest facing the worldflea shampoo running down our legs
while the dog named for a philosophertried to flail out of my arms like a caught fishat the bottom of a boat his last chance
before being gutted. Wateryin certain lights he is morelike a furtive land-bound prey.
His rabbit heart leapt into my palmslamming the wall of his grizzled chest.He was wary of Mike for two days
but I was the favorite—followedfrom couch to bed to toiletas if I were protecting him
as if I hadn’t been part…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, September/October 2023