A Dog Is Not a Baby. Or It Is.
       

Just yesterday, outside our house,
a woman pushed a terrier in a baby carriage.

Just yesterday, a woman pushed out a baby
in our house. Her terrier is jealous.

I am jealous of your carriage, your baby, your terrier,
your house, your yesterdays, and push you out.

A poem is not an essay. Or it is,
waiting to be pushed outside this house of lines.

Come to me little poem, little terrier.
Inside the house is a warm carriage.

Inside a carriage is a house of yesterdays
pushing you into an essay on babies.

My sister is there with her terrier
waiting outside our house for a child.

Ride the carriage of yesterday with your terrier
into my house of now.

"Just yesterday" is everyday. Waiting.
A dog is not a baby.

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Copyright © 2020 Marjorie Maddox All rights reserved
from The Penn Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission