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Poetry in motion, that old cliché.
But after all, what could resemble more
lyric itself than any greyhound running:
beauty, of course, and bunched muscular power
thundering in that double suspension stride
only sighthounds possess, halfway to flying,
catching your breath in its glory and risk
thirty seconds, a minute, then back to repose?

On this mixed earth, she’s entirely one thing,
my dog; she’s never had a day not knowing
what it is to live out her heart’s call.
May I learn what it feels like to be so true:
eyes wide, jaws tearing air, heart pumping
with blazing joy inside the passing world.


Originally from New York, Anne Myles retired early from her position as an English professor at the University of Northern Iowa and is working on an MFA in poetry at the Vermont College of Fine Arts. Her work has appeared in Lavender Review, Whale Road Review, Green Briar Review, Gyroscope Review, North American Review, and other journals. She walks her dog in the woods and wonders about what’s next.

© 2019, Anne Myles

One comment on “The Calling, by Anne Myles

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