RETURN OF THE BLACK DOG

By Bev Clark

The view from her new kitchen window is soft

like soapsuds, plates shiny as her new life.

A happy sigh, audible in the silence,

broken by a sniffing, snuffling from behind.

In the corner of her eye she catches sight

of a short, squat, black figure

trundling from the kitchen to the hallway.

She checks the back door – locked.

Wiping her hands, she hurries after it, bewildered.

By the time she reaches the front door, it’s vanished.

Not in the living room or up the stairs –

A phantom – disappeared.

She’s not so stupid as to image she left it behind

– that darkness.

*

It creeps into your suitcase, nestles in a pocket.

A silent travelling companion, it always follows.

Just when you think the new horizon is golden,

a place to breathe again,

the black dog finds you. Creeps up behind.

Reminds you there’s no sunshine without a dark cloud.

He’ll make himself at home here and when he’s ready,

materialize.  Somewhere between the fireplace

and the window seat, waiting for your tears.

#darkpoetsclub