I am too cold to leave my bed these mornings
I linger but not too late in the day.
Black dog makes the leap
Then settles down beside me
As naturally as if the bed were his,
As if I had called him up when all I did was stir.
The light is still dim in the room.
When he turns his head towards me I cannot see his eyes.
As morning light filters in, he studies my face
As if he were contemplating my disease.
He seems to be messaging me a great amount of sympathy with his stare.
This morning he lifted his paw and landed it heavily on my chest,
Like a hand, like a bridge.