Vijaya Sundaram

Poet, Musician, Teacher, and Amateur Visual Artist

Refusal

Refusal
©February 27th, 2017

By Vijaya Sundaram

My dog sings to me with her eyes
Large, dark, almond-eyes
Full of unexpressed emotion,
She sings her deepest soul to me.
I look back into those endless depths
And think, “What galaxies,
What worlds, what unknown dreams
Fill that mind, cause her nose
To follow its own path, cause her
Eyes to follow my every move?”
 
I see her gaze dwell on me,
The dishes being done, I swivel
And there she is, gaze fixed on me,
Full of mute adoration, or is it
Mute pleading for meaning?
I look back at her.
Unblinking, she stares,
Then, turning to her left,
Points to something,
Her nose message-keen.
I look, but I don’t need to.
 
“No,” I say, “No, you can’t.”
 
Tail drooping, she stares,
Then, jumping up, she paws
And claws at the counter,
Making a little rww-rwwawr sound.
I almost succumb, but resist.
 
Stifling laughter, I say,
“You persist, and I feel your pain.
But again I say to you, Holly,
‘No, we have no bananas.
We have no bananas today.'”
 
She is undeterred, adamantine.
Jumping up, she paws at me,
Asking in infra-red or ultra-violet
Canine speech, demanding, really.
 
So, fond and foolish,
I find one last banana, unzip it,
And feed my ravening beast.
Banana-Hound wins this round.
___________________________________________________
 
P.S. It’s true, all of it. My dog is a banana-hound!