PET SOUNDS

by Abigail Welhouse

My pet will be the color of fire.

I will brush him with boar bristles

and get him a water bowl with his name.

Or her name. I don’t want to do that thing

where pets are always referred to as male,

as a weird default. She will drink from toilets,

probably. She will be small enough to fit in the sink,

or a bag, or peering from under the bed. She will cower

during storms. She won’t be able to stand the noise of children

at the park, going down plastic slides and thrusting hands into noses

or grubby pockets. She will prefer quiet and being alone. She will listen

during poetry readings without a single bark. Did I say bark? She could be

something other than a dog, but I think she will be a dog. I think she will be a dog

and she will be the kind of dog who will look at me long enough to forgive every sin