Woman Love Dog

I watch her
sitting on the second step
her curls of fire red
hair
tight and tangled
above a nineties tracksuit

Her dog
a ‘baby’ Boxer
tan
and just as tall, on the stairs

“come here baby” she says
cradling and coaxing the canine
between her legs

She forces its paws
up onto her shoulders
the arms of a lover
or Madonna Mother with child

She hugs it deeply
her hands
massaging the fur
her fingers
working and clenching as she kisses
its neck

“that’s it baby, good baby”

She’s in her early forties
has a boyfriend
I see them around
hear them calling the animals
local
simple
accents
echoing through my window

“ooh yes baby” she says again
“yes yes yes!”
and on it goes
for the next forty five minutes
mouth, ears and ass
kissed
(yes, really)

the dog
stares off
into space
a stupid bored expression wrapped across
its black chops

seemingly distracted
by the world around it
held
in the preposterous carriage
of human affection

Somehow
this beast
has found itself
in the clutches of a complex,
meaningful,
as quite possibly, sexually underpinned relationship
with
a woman

I recognise the expression
in its hopeful
glassy eyes

yes indeed

now it too understands the challenge
of reciprocating
superfluous
affection