In Whom We Move

IN WHOM WE MOVE

I have a large, black dog. What this 

entails is many—albeit brief—

encounters in the dark. What this en-

tails as well is coming to accept that even

most familiar ground—think, the trek

between your pillow and the kitchen sink—

is hounded with a presence. In time, 

(considering the circumstance,) you learn 

to tread lightly. Enough collisions

and you also learn look for him in 

every nook and cranny, an oblique form 

of inspection which hinges heavily on

the periphery. All this to say, I’ve come

to better apprehend, if via the terms 

of my large, black dog, the nature 

of another presence with whom we share

a space.