She weighed
three hundred pounds.
Fat and high sugars
were killing her
I thought.
So,
I thought.
So,
I gave her a puppy
with dark curly hair,
nothing else had worked.
Walking the dog
twice a day
I thought
might persuade,
might motivate.
She was pleased with my prescription,
she laughed,
she rocked
from side to side.
She lived
for twelve years
hugging
that little black dog
while her lean husband
walked it faithfully,
twice a day.
by James Wright (1927-1980)
1 comment:
I love this poem! I just found your blog because of the Blogathon. It caught my eye because I've had type 1 diabetes since 1978. And, I grew up in Irvine of all places. I'll be back to read some more when I have some time. (Ignore my blog on Blogger -- I only started that one to see how it works. My "real" blog is on Diaryland.)
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