I pulled a pair of my wife’s underwear
from our dog’s ass. Yes,
a number of my days have begun like this.
It is early. The city is soft. The sky
looks like sugar-water.
All the east-facing windows catch fire.
In their secrets, people are waking
cotton-mouthed and empty-
handed and reaching.
Each day begins with an erection—
I mean, each day begins with a question
and the ten thousand things,
each one a suggestion
of another, uncounted thing.
Surface from sleep with the sunken treasure
of breath, call it yours.
The sidewalk braces for the heat
which will come and lay its dogsbody down.
I rise early because I am my brother’s keeper
as well as my dog’s.