This poem was published in The Avenue Journal, Issue X: Dogs
Fanfare For The Common Home
by Shutta Crum
17 years :: the house dad built—
ㅤby the lake with a drop-off so deep it’s rumored
ㅤno one’s found the bottom, or one lost child.
ㅤToo many beloved dogs to count. Never a cat.
1 year :: lone farmhouse—
ㅤsluffing its blue skin, placid on a long farm lane.
ㅤThe surprise of 5 beagle pups next-door. And a knock
ㅤin the middle of the night. We woke, did not answer.
Several years :: married student housing—
ㅤ2 husbands, and early morning Hot-Wheelers careening by.
ㅤ1st husband found his clothes chucked onto the asphalt. A detour—
ㅤfor myself and the Hot-Wheelers. Most days, one goose at the door.
1 year :: middle floor apartment—
ㅤ coach’s kids lifted—and dropped—weights upstairs.
ㅤ The man from the lower level complained about us.
ㅤ Once, we rescued a child from a chest-deep snowdrift. Many birds.
6 years :: the Victorian—
ㅤa claw-foot tub, our first cat and her single kitten,
ㅤthe quince that blossomed wantonly, and the lone primrose
ㅤlost mid-pilgrimage in the lawn. Dug it up, replanted.
27 years :: the old farm—
ㅤcame with a 3-footed cat, a pond, peach trees.
ㅤAdopted, and adored, 3 more cats & 1 dog. Now, resting under apple trees.
ㅤWhile foxes watched from the hillside, we loved 2 children.
Shutta Crum is a Robinson Jeffers Tor House Foundation honoree poet (2024). Her poems have appeared in many journals in several countries including West Trade, Acumen, Calyx, Palette Poetry, MER, Grain, Acumen, The Avenue, and Boulevard. A Pushcart nominee, she is the recipient of nine Royal Palm Literary Awards (FL). Her chapbook When You Get Here won a gold RPLA. Her latest chapbook is Meet Me Out There (Kelsay Books). She publishes the monthly newsletter: The Wordsmith’s Playground. www.shutta.com
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