Author’s Note: “The black dog” has become a code name for depression, but here I use it to portray joy. The dog in question belonged to a guest at our place on the shore. She escaped early one morning, and, exploring, discovered the fish. She returned triumphant. This poem honors the late Stanley Plumly, a beloved poetry teacher at the University of Maryland, who would have appreciated a dog’s delight in her dead fish.
The Black Dog Wakes Us with Fish Breath
She found a ripe one in the muck
on her first dash—she reeks of it.
Drunk on the smell, she sneaks out,
runs full tilt, up, down the wet lawn.
Over my head two Canada geese
pass honking, creaking. The wind’s
picked up but can’t drown the roar
of waves from the barrier beach.
The surf will reach six feet tonight.
Down by the channel, birdsong carries.
I can hear willets piping on their nests
in the marsh on the far side. My teacher
died last week. He told us, Come to the page
with a full heart and an empty mind.
He’d walked the paths where Keats
walked in Hampshire when the poet
wrote his great ode to the dying season.
He’d hoped to work at his desk till fall,
revise as he watched the leaves turn,
recalling elms, crowns of airy dreams.
But it’s April, the leaves still in bud,
everything swelling, opening.
From a near pine, a mockingbird carols.
A flock of peeps skims the water,
looking to land on the oyster bar.
A dead fish is cause for rejoicing.
♦
Susan Okie is a doctor, poet, and former Washington Post medical reporter. She holds an MFA in poetry from the Warren Wilson College Program for Writers. Her work has appeared in various poetry journals. Her full-length poetry collection, Women at the Crossing, won the 2023 Off the Grid Poetry Prize. She lives in Bethesda, Maryland.
The Delmarva Review, a literary journal located in St. Michaels, Maryland, reaches regionally, nationally, and beyond, to give writers a desirable home in print (with a digital edition) to present their most compelling new prose and poetry to discerning audiences. This is a time when many commercial publications have closed their doors or are reducing literary content. For each annual edition, editors have culled through thousands of submissions to select the best of new poetry, fiction, and nonfiction. There is never a publishing or reading fee to the writers. The review is available from online booksellers and regional specialty bookstores. As a 501(c)(3) nonprofit, support comes from tax-deductible contributions and a grant from Talbot Arts with funds from the Maryland State Arts Council. Website: www.DelmarvaReview.o
Wilson Wyatt says
Lovely. A good poem is rarely as simple as first read.