An Echo

The leash of his voice has fallen away,
And his world has emptied out.

My blood, water for so long now,
Thickens and grows warm.

I ache to surge, to bind in breath
Muscle and sinew and tooth,

To shake the life loose from between bones,
And feel the spark quicken, subside and pass

From rabbits, rats, furtive things,
From the deeper shadows that lumber and unfold

And demand I bow,
For this is their world also.

His voice, his voice would insist “No.”
He would yank and whistle, sometimes growl.

Summoned, I would return
And, grinning, nuzzle his wet palm,

Dizzy with his smell
And grateful for his touch.

Now I skirt these unpeopled roads
That wind into the valley.

I am an echo.
I am an echo seeking its source.