Stage Six

Day 45

It’s been constant for weeks,

I wake up at 3 in the afternoon

and the light from the window is a little brighter

than the day before, and the sheets are

a little whiter than the morning before,

but outside my window the grass is still dead,

and the pool is still green.

The dog died that morning

and its body is still in the yard,

limp

and still.

I inform my six year old that his best friend

starved to death,

then slink back into bed

and fall asleep to muted lamentations

coming from the room next to mine.

Moments later I open my eyes,

and the sobs turn into the whine of a lab

sitting on the edge of my bed,

and I smile.