The dog sleeps on the couch as if he’s crash-landed.
Cold light from ABC Breakfast is bluing the walls
and I’m antsy as the blackbird beyond the window
fossicking the same ground over and over, the shadows
and the leaf litter, where no-one else wants to look.

The dog and I both need to be walked. He drags me
like I’m emotional baggage he’s desperate to escape.
We are linked by more than the lead, more than
the family of mammals, the family of pasts we want
to forget.  Both of us are rescued creatures.