Part One
My horoscope predicted
I would meet my new love that day.
I was ready.
I was going out.
I knew he’d be there.
But
as I debated my sweater
the black wrap or pale pink roses,
I heard frantic squawks in my yard
ran fast down the deck steps
screaming
“No! No!”
flailing my arms at the gray husky
with the white duck in his teeth
made him drop her
Wrapped my arms around
her red bloody white feathers
her wings beat my cheek
till she rested her chin on my shoulder
her neck draped like a silk scarf on mine
our hearts pounding together.
Part Two
Staring up from a storage bin
on my passenger seat,
she didn’t flinch or blink.
I knew then,
her name was Glinda,
the good duck of the East.
Fractured pelvis
open wounds
still as stone
not eating.
I washed her
purple skin torn sores
plied open her bill
for pills.
Part Three
Three days later
Glinda’s partner reappeared
all quacking and wing clapping,
she ate bugs in the grass
under the garden hose with him,
bathed in tubs of water,
napped on the high grass
between tree roots.
I followed her limping
down the dry creek bed,
hopping over dusty rocks.
Sometimes I had to stop them off at the path
herd her back to my laundry room
so I could keep her
safe.
Part Four
Exactly one week after the dog attack-
-Rain!
Heavy rain
like slaps on the roof,
all night
through my dreams.
In the morning,
a stream.
She and he splashing, dipping, dunking
Me humming
“Born Free”
Part Five
When it happened,
I hated that dog.
But now,
even the dog
that dropped her
at my feet
is God.
And each morning
on deck
tossing Glinda
apples
and sunflower seeds
I see Her.
Her white,
her silhouette,
her grace curved neck,
her black eye
locks on mine
and I sigh,
hold my quivering heart.