After 3 AM paralysis, peristalsis of the brain force-feeding horror to grasping anxieties, I decide to get a dog. But when I hold his soft body— tangled legs wrestling cold hands— sharp-hooked thoughts scramble superimposing sadness, warning how easily fragile bones break, so I can love only fearfully. Still— time passes, and all the while his steady heart is beating in the long grass, across sweet winds his nose sifts through summer rising and falling in layers of lives invisible to me. The transience of all quick, little creatures only spurs him onward, sends him bounding into the thicket moving deftly after life. Scampering paws insist ‘now’, a message pressed over and over into dark earth its reverberations calling me from my fears out into young air, into untidy fields and the clear morning. In this way we continue on: together, alive within the world.
Sianna Madigan is a recent Media graduate and a new poet. She lives and writes in a small town in country NSW with her dog, Lumi.