old dog

He was an old dog we said
and so were off the hook
released from saying more
from these tears
I hold in check
an angry god minding my rainbow
defying a rerun deluge.

My uncle was a dashing man
a cracker
of lively temperament
ducking drunken punches
caught by his brother’s jaw
or head bound by a jaunty bandage
hero of some battle between
his bright green Cadillac and a bridge.
Even when breath stopped
his big heart kept going.
In that small full room
our snuffling, wheezing, even our breath
was held in
as we wet ourselves
eyes to cheeks to chins
across creases to damp neckbands
grief as sweat.

I saw there were no paw prints
on the lower panes
of our blue-framed French doors
no petitions against the terror of thunder set that aside
and thought of uncle’s pale blue eyes set that aside
of the colors of skin that’s died set that aside
of your dark form beneath the arch against the light set that aside
of ashes we’ve not yet spread
of how I hold in our dead
of all I cannot fix
I cannot change
I cannot bear
I cannot hide
your smile
your lies
my breath held
heart held
hands held
just so,
set all that aside. He was an old dog.