From Touch Earth, published by Guernica in 2006.

M. Travis Lane is an award-winning writer who lives in Fredericton.

No one explains things to dogs.

The voice that’s missing

has left its aroma everywhere,

along with the faint stale smells of those

who used to be here:

‍

the cat

who owned that chair, but never comes

coiling out from under the couch

the way the present cat still does,

‍

those other dogs

who rubbed the couch wool shiny

with their dreams,

but never sit up night to speak

at a stranger’s step—

‍

But mightn’t they come?

There’s no asking the cat. He sits

stolid along the window sill

watching time drip down the pane.

‍

Three yards away a terrier

shrieks at the Coming Home of One

who comes each day about this time.

‍

But the cars that pass

are never ours,

and the smells grow grainy, cold.