An Old Dog

He was never my master.
I grew up with Telemachus
clutching my ruff to steady his baby steps.
I slept at Penelope’s door
every night under lamps while she unwove
the day’s work.
I growled when the suitors got out of hand.

I alone knew his step upon the threshold.
I knew one task was left to me:
to make space for a new dog,
one who’d learn the master’s tricks,
his new tricks.

Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside