This week's totally optional exercise was to use a word or words from the random prompt generator on the PoetryThursday website. My word was "Tensile" and I fretted and worried that word all week. This is where it led me.
The leash is designed to keep her smart
to my heel. But there are mornings
I wonder exactly who is tethered
to whom. It is a chore, this ritual
of thrice daily walk, the study
of elimination, the suppression of gag
reflex, the hand sliding on soft shit
through plastic. She pulls me
with moist, brown-eyed need. I follow;
reluctance shedding its shaggy winter
undercoat. She thrusts damp nose
beneath my hand, fits dome of head
to arch of palm in practiced precision.
Surely evolution shapes my response
as certain as saliva follows dinner bell.