(After Woman by a Window Feeding Her Dog, by Mary Cassatt)

If there is such a thing as forever, I will be here by this high window,
this dog beside me, sun on our faces. Everything important will
spread out beneath us: gazebo and fountain. Each will be held in its
own moment of beauty like the Yorkshire Terriers whose pictures
hang on my kitchen wall: three no longer with me and this one who
chews his rope giraffe to pieces with no regrets, no sentimental
attachment--—the chew worth whatever loss it incurs. Informed by
his own spirit, he sees in things only things and wants nothing more
than his leash and long walks, a game of throw the ball. He needs
nothing more than to sleep on the floor between my feet or curled in
the right angle my arm and elbow make when I hold him—the
happiness he was made for.
If only forever were a choice we could make, I would choose this
dog's world (and my place in it)--—absolute innocence—--no other life
to plan for but this. Nothing but this: love without reservation—--his
world and mine as it ought to be and, in this moment, is.
 

This poem first appeared in Paterson Literary Review.
Used with the author's permission.