resurrection of the family dog 

no one misses her more than me.
i am not home when she turns into 
a jar of bees. then, a silent thumb. 
i drive around the block for hours
because i am afraid to see her. 
all the bananas in the world
could not soothe me. my parents try to say,
"she is just an angel now."
i have met angels & i want nothing
to do with them. i buy gardening gloves
from a twenty-four-hour store. 
go out to the backyard while everyone
is dreaming of smoke. she used 
to eat my hands each night & in the morning
i would feel so much relief. we would walk
together into a hole in the forest.
there, we could speak the same sadnesses.
her desire to chew on a cloud. mine 
to be the daughter everyone wanted. 
the family dog is always a conduit. 
she would say, "they do not know what they want." 
i build a replica of her from broken plates
& loose screws. once she ran away &
i found her not far from the house at all.
she was standing & staring at a ghost
at the corner of the property.
i said, "it is best to ignore them."
she said, "that is not how you should treat
the dead." i do not know if this resurrection is
what she would want. i take the statue
out to the yard. bathe her in moon glow.
shake her & beg. i try all her the commands 
that i taught her which was only two.
"sit" & "come." "sit," i say. "come."
finally, she rattles to life. i forget
all the questions i want to ask her
& instead, we chase each other.
our midnight shadows, fresh children
in the cool grass. i climb the pine tree
to reach the clouds. manage to pull one down
for her to chew on. by dawn
she is just a pile of broken plates again. 
i do not clean her up. instead, i decide
this is the shrine for her brief return.
when the others find her, my father & my brothers
& my mother & my uncle i wonder if 
they will know this was her or if
they will just think i came urgent as always
& left a holy little mess.