Dog day Resurrection

When did world and weather shift,
that we walk friends about in fur?
On scrabbled coast where Jeffers pined
and Mission clay soaked native blood,
I am on Easter Sunday in the back pew of
Wayfarers’ church, simpled green and white.
Hear Father Norm bless all, as my blonde
dog stretches under hymnals and the plate,
with eyes forgiving human egoists

who say God needs no pets in heaven.
Norm sermons that life-firsters of today
would eagerly pluck Jesus off the cross
and fix him to a feeding tube, so he’d never
have died to wash our sins. At my ankles
dog eyes stay level wide, pooled in deeper
focal point than mine. It juts me: those
unfallen need not bark to be redeemed.

Carmel, California

About Robert H. Bunzel

Robert H. Bunzel was born in 1955, and lives in Piedmont, California. He is a practicing trial attorney in San Francisco, and 1978 graduate of Harvard College. His poems have appeared in local and national journals including Soundings East, Legal Studies Forum, Block’s Poetry Journal, Orphic Lute, Oxygen, Illya’s Honey, ZYZZYVA and Poet Magazine. He was president of the board of the literary tri-quarterly ZYZZYVA, “the last word in west coast writers and artists,” from 2002-2006.

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