split-boned dog

Samantha DeFlitch

My dog has a deformed rib, the vet says,
it doesn’t hurt her. Maybe she bumped
into a coffee table when she was two weeks,
or played too rough with a brother.
She’ll be fine. The vet continues her exam,
pulling back gums, good teeth, good dog. 

Sometimes I can see the dog’s back
arched, when she sleeps, and I know
it’s that rib. And I really can’t believe
she doesn’t feel something.
Who knows? She’s a good dog. 

But isn’t that how the whole world
opens itself before us?
It’s all about a concave rib,
the day someone took us aside,
quiet, and told us to lay off the sugar.
Was it third grade for us all?
It doesn’t hurt anymore, says
the whole world. We’re all on diets,
avoiding the sharp edges of coffee tables.