For Grant

Grief

Cats peer from the dark
A snake is coiled, ready
Skeletons stretch beneath white sunbeams

Summer
You said you couldn’t stand the thought of your dog’s mortality, a small dog with big eyes. You were as far away as the ocean when you said that.

A kitten’s pink tongue
An axe in a stump of wood
A bright carnation against a black sky

Fall
Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about it, you said. To think of him hurt is too much. Small dogs live longer than big ones, I told you. There is time.

A turtle trapped on his back
A black rainbow
An eclipsed sun

Winter
In the dark, it’s comforting to put a hand on a dog’s side, to feel him breathe, the rise and fall.

There is so little time.

Small Dog, Dandelions, Butterfly. Grant Huang, 2015.

Small Dog, Dandelions, Butterfly. Grant Huang, 2015.