Anubis

by Christine Adams Beckett

Oh, some scholar! oh, some sailor!
Oh, some wise man from the skies!
Please to tell a little pilgrim
Where the place called morning lies!

Emily Dickinson

Radiance of Ra,
A sun god, illuminates
The chamber, aglow with
Yellow hues of a
Signaled Spring.

Blinding, waking, the
Light saturates objects
Of routine and comfort,
Casting shadows on
The wall above a
Clanking radiator, busy
Tossing off artificial
Heat on our waking,
Still bodies.

A picture frame, an
Armchair blocks
The rays, forming
A suggested image of
An Egyptian jackal
On the wall.
A sweater tossed
In weariness over
The arm becomes
A scale, projected,
Weighing the heft of a
Leaden heart, bursting
But burdened.

It hangs over the
Twitching body of
A still sleeping dog,
Content and relaxed
In its unconditional
Sharing of affections.
He blinks while humans stir
Knowing he lies
Securely in
Dickinson’s morning,
Where death stops
Not, and we all
Acknowledge the gift
Of one more day
To try and get it right.