Didn’t I?
Before they put Missy to sleep because the woodchuck was rabid //
before she held it under water with her long snout and breathed
through the sides of her mouth // before she snatched it by the scruff
and trotted to the pond with it dangling from her mouth // before
all the snarling and growling as they fought // before Missy yipped
when it bit her on the jowls // before she lunged for the woodchuck
when it emerged from under the wooden step, rose up on its
haunches, looked around // before our father sat in the shadow
of the barn with his .22, waited and waited for the woodchuck to show
its head // before he swore I’m gonna kill that sonovabitch // before
it gorged itself in our mother’s garden // before the woodchuck dug
a burrow under the wooden step leading to the barn’s sliding door //
before our mother planted beans and carrots, lettuce and chard // before
daffodils and crocuses // before melting snow made fleeting creeks
beside the dirt road // before our mother said Bill, we can’t leave her
in that rickety doghouse all winter // before they bedded Missy beside
the kitchen radiator to thaw her frost-bitten paws // before a storm
closed school for two days // before she squeezed in beside me
and I breathed dog feet and flea powder // before I hid from him
in Missy’s doghouse // before he yelled If you want to live
in this house, you’d better believe! // before I shouted I don’t believe
in Jesus anymore at Thanksgiving dinner // before Mrs. Banford
told my father Barby Aiken died this week, poor thing, just stood up
from bed and died as he peeled seven singles from his billfold to pay
for my piano lesson // before she stood up from bed and died // before
Barby Aiken petted Missy in our car after Sunday school and cooed
Oh, I wish I had a dog // before I bragged to my new friend Barby Aiken
that I could play “Spinning Song” by heart and had a puppy named Missy //
before we held hands and sang “Jesus Loves Me, This I Know” // before
a new girl with red hair sat next to me in Sunday school as Mrs. Pigham
hammered on the piano // before I had a puppy named Missy and a friend
named Barby, didn’t I pray to Jesus every night for one friend and a dog?
B. Fulton Jennes is an award-winning poet whose work has appeared widely in literary journals and anthologies. Her poem “Father to Son” won the 2023 New Millennium Award. Blinded Birds received the 2022 International Book Award for a poetry chapbook; another chapbook, FLOWN, was published by Porkbelly Press in 2024. Jennes is poet laureate emerita of Ridgefield, CT, where she directs the Poetry in the Garden festival each summer.
