Ole Dog

by Dwaine Rieves

our ole dog hides in a crawl space beneath 

the house safe 

in the crawl space, suffering and thankful

maybe for a safe suffering 

space we’ll never know

though it’s got to hear us 

stepping on the wooden 

floor above, suffering maybe best 

in a crawl space if you have to 

come home to suffering 

as an ole dog must, which our 

sounds above probably indicate we 

sometimes must also, here above the crawl 

space where our ole dog likely never 

considers how we might suffer 

above, how we might want

nothing more than to curl up 

beneath the racket and rest 

our bones as you might 

want to rest your bones if

you were an ole dog feeling up the earth 

you dug out in a crawl 

space, here under voices

saying things

you feel safer below, you

alone with the earth 

in filling up the hole