Author Archives: Scott Bowles
Reasonless
All morning she has been my shadow.
Not the kind that falls behind
but the kind that moves ahead,
anticipating doors.
When I rise from the couch
she rises too, her body a question
she’s already answered: ‘yes, I will follow you
into the next room where nothing is happening.’
She does not ask for anything,
not food, not play, not the world beyond the door.
Only this: to be in the room I’m in,
or the one I’m about to enter.
Even when I shower she waits,
sprawled on cool tile.
Devotion can be this simple,
this chocolate body on the floor,
these amber eyes.
What have I done to deserve
this furred constancy, this breathing shadow
who asks only to be near?
Nothing. That’s the miracle.
