I saw a muskrat in the park
lying at an entrance to her home,
oval mound of underbelly exposed,
tiny feet with long shapely nails
curled gracefully in death.
Her buck teeth protrude slightly
between parted lips.
Her chestnut hair, rustled by the breeze,
still glistens.
There are no wounds.
Poison, then.
Feeling ill, did she try to make it home
and get only this far –
to her doorstep?
Or was she underground,
and did she want to die in the sun?
Paulette Callen has returned to her home state of South Dakota in retirement, after 30+ years in New York City. Varying degrees of culture shock in both directions — but always, the space she returned to has been made home by a dog.