This Want of You

What physically remains of you
I keep finding throughout my house:
under the sofa, in the corners of the bedroom, on my coat.
Your fur, your beautiful coat, gray and white plume of soft fur, now
nothing more than dust bunnies rolling
like small tumbleweeds throughout obscure places in my house.

But what remains of you is within me.

We put the Christmas tree up tonight,
took the bell off your collar and put it
front and center
among the sweet smelling boughs.
And with that, I picture you running through Douglas furs in Wyoming,
chasing chipmunks,
sniffing out fox or squirrel.

You live in my memory.
So vivid, now, I see your tail waving at me
As you trot in front, lead dog,
smart girl.
I can reach down and pet your soft head,
smell the earthy want of you
see you digging a nest in the flowerbed to lie in the sun.
I miss you. God, how I miss you now.

And I'm sorry. I would trade so many, so much
to have you back here with me
just for tonight
under this tree.