February 21, 2018

Peg is better, and
Mary’s gone to work, and I’m
up on the third floor

frittering the day
away on necessary
tasks. The dogs next door

are barking—when out,
their necessary task is
to protect their own

against anything
that might do harm to their own.
It’s a hard job in

the city where signs of threats, like
seemingly necessary
tasks, proliferate

like itches when I
think of bedbugs I don’t have—
at least I don’t think—

maybe I better
call the dogs to sniff them out.
But no, the dogs aren’t

barking anymore.
Just now, signs of threats are few,
and of bebugs none.

I can do the tasks,
at least the necessary
ones, sometime later.

A scratch’ll take care
of the itch, and I can get
back to this wholly

task of writing. Oh, I’m so
glad Peg is better.

Roy Herndon Smith