Black Dog

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.