The dog hair is not so much clumped as it
Is distributed. Everywhere. On us,
The furniture, under the furniture,
In the freezer compartment… there’s a bit
Stuck to the base of the front door, we just
Keep swishing it back and forth. To be sure:
We have two dogs – two — yet we persist
With being surprised, with pretending that
It’s a temporary thing. That dog hair
Isn’t something that we live with. That it’s
Extraordinary. That every strange flat
Dog strand that floats through the living room air
Is an alien object that does not mean
We could do better with the vacuuming.
Juleigh Howard-Hobson’s formal poetry has appeared in Tilde, Third Wednesday,Valparaiso Poetry Review, Capsule Stories, Anti-Heroin Chic, Birds Fall Silent in the Mechanical Sea (Great Weather for Media), Lift Every Voice (Kissing Dynamite), and many other places. Nominations: the Pushcart, Best of the Net, the Elgin and the Rhysling.