At midday on the grass beneath cold cloud cover,
a moment’s memory in warm light, the long-legged whippet:
slim-bodied, tubular, the extension of Cave Canem frame.
Narrow-sleek the dance of ribs like engine pistons
within one step, stretched like a panther, then unfolded,
touching more than it could reach with small studded paws
that pad down the grass, heaves up small white-yellow weeds
and pollinated dust. Trim of lashes and whiskers above pink tongue
that licks and flops like a flag in the untouched wind.
The quick of its delicate insides. To sprint to nowhere, to just run,
to push through this small space of time.
The thin skeleton flexes within its dog blanket.