Kathi Wolfe

WHAT SPARKY KNOWS

How to
sit,
stay,
beg,
fetch the ball
from her master
Stan, who is tired
from staying up all night
fighting with Rita his wife,
yelling at her, "You're the one
with the sugar, the sweats,
the doctors and the shots,
but now I have the flu!
I'm tired of fetching for you–
of jumping every time you whistle!
I'm not Pavlov's dog!
We're not going dancing tonight."

When to
roll over,
heel,
lick the wounds
of Rita,
her puppy-eyed mistress,
who, at moonlight at midnight,
doggy-paddles laps
like a Labrador from one end
of the swimming pool
to the other,
telling Stan,
"I'm not at death's door!
You never want
to tango any more!
Why don't we just
roll over
and play dead?"

* * *

I'VE GOT A SECRET

Mr. William Hatfield from West Virginia whispers
to Mr. Gary Moore in New York City. My dog
Brownie was dropped in an abandoned coal mine.
I dug for 31 days to get him out! , he says. Wow,
I think, for real? Would I do that if Sparky
got stuck somewhere cold and dark and under the earth?
It's 8 o'clock, and I'm in New Jersey watching
television, because, for once, I've done my homework,
and Mom and Dad want me out of their way
so they can have, what they call, "a discussion."

Mr. Henry Morgan and Mr. Bill Cullen wear suits
and bow-ties. Their shirts have no wrinkles
and are tucked in perfectly. I bet they never
get their hands dirty like my Dad did when
he picked up a cat named Molly who'd been hit
by a car and put her on the operating room table.
There was so much blood! His untucked shirttails
were stained with blood spots and guts.
Don't tell Mrs. Frank how beat up her kitty looks,
he said, it's a secret just between us.

Miss Betsy Palmer's and Miss Bess Myerson's
dresses are always glamorous. My Mom only
gets that dressed up on New Year's Eve.
Like Mom, they smoke Winstons. But they're
princesses, holding their cigarettes. Sometimes,
especially in the early morning, Mom is a witch,
growling for a ciggie. Don't tell your Dad, I'm
smoking, she says, He and the doctors say I
should quit. It's a secret just between us.

Mr. Hatfield is talking about Brownie. He
was down there for 18 days before I started digging,
he says. In the middle of Brownie's story,
Dad yells to Mom," You weren't with our
daughter at Girl Scouts last Monday,
were you? You were with John! Don't
deny it! I found his phone number in your
purse. If you're going to fool around,
don't lie about it. Do you want out?

This program is brought to you by Dream Whip.
I stop listening to the TV.
I hear screaming and glass shattering
from the other room. Yes, I was with John,
Mom says, but it didn't mean anything.
You don't look at me! You don't touch me!
You used to dance with me. I may be sick,
but I'm still a woman. John and I tangoed;
he said I looked beautiful; he kept me warm.

I try to remember if I went to Scouts last
Monday. It seems so long ago! Why
would Mom tell a lie? I go to Mom and Dad,
trying not to cry. Why are you so mad,
I ask. We'll tell you later, Mom says,
for now that's a secret between your Dad and myself.

Kathi Wolfe was a finalist in the 2007 Pudding House Chapbook competition and her chapbook, Helen Takes The Stage: The Helen Keller Poems was subsequently published by Pudding House. Her work has appeared in Gargoyle, Potomac Review, Innisfree Poetry Journal, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Not Just Air, Wordgathering, Breath & Shadow and other publications. Wolfe has received a Puffin Foundation grant and been awarded poetry residencies by Vermont Studio Center. She was a winner of the 2010 Moving Words Poetry Competition, a competition conducted by the Arlington County (Va.) Office of Cultural Affairs and Metro, the Washington, D.C. area transit authority.