Dog Park, Ocean Beach, San Diego
mary junge
We who have watched too much television for more than a year
look to dogs to cheer us, and these dogs do their job.
Some of us throw frisbees and slimy tennis balls to huskies
and German shepherds, to dachshunds and pit bulls, to Labrador retrievers
and cocker spaniels, to bulldogs and Weimaraners. Soon we are smiling.
The dogs mostly play chase, stopping to sniff each other’s privates,
turning again to meet the gaze of their owners as lovers would.
It is still early, but the sun ascends quickly. Two dogs ride surfboards,
though never over any wave’s crest. Who could feel sad
watching dogs float on surfboards on the sparkling expanse of the ocean?
We’re calm and smiling by the time we begin walking in the deeper sand.
Maybe we’re a little kinder too. You’d think war hadn’t been invented yet
or that slavery played no part in our history. When a dog nips at my son’s dog,
apologies come easily from both sides. Forgiveness is granted.
We’re shoeless. Our stomachs rumble. The homeless remain wrapped
in sleeping bag cocoons near the line where the sand ends and pavement begins.
One woman has forgotten to bring a bag for her dog’s poop.
No worries. A woman in a canary-yellow t-shirt offers one.
Back home in Minneapolis, protestors occupy the city streets again. Daunte Wright
was killed last night. He was only twenty. His name supplants George Floyd’s
on a long list. (Did I really believe there would be no more after George?)
I struggle to hold so many in mind.
They won’t smile again, won’t walk any dog to any park.
Daunte will never again walk hand-in-hand with his son,
who at age two is beginning to learn that his father is gone for good.
It will take time, his lifetime, to grasp the meaning of the word forever.
Mary Junge lives, writes, and watches birds in Minnesota. She holds a Master of Arts degree from the University of Minnesota and has studied poetry and memoir at the Loft, Minneapolis, Key West Literary Seminars and workshops, and other places. During the pandemic she took online poetry classes with Ellen Bass. She enjoyed a residency at Rensing Center’s Italian outpost in Borseda, Liguria, Italy in 2017. In addition to traveling, reading and writing, she is an avid quilter. Junge’s poems have been published in numerous journals and anthologies: bosque, Crosswinds Poetry Journal (recent work appears in issue VIII, 2022), Rag Queen, Split Rock Review (to hear a poem in this poet’s voice, https://www.splitrockreview.org/mary-junge), and Water~Stone, among others. Junge's poem, “Demerol Dreams,” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2001. She has published two poetry books of poetry: Express Train, a chapbook, Pudding House Publications, and Pilgrim Eye, Laurel Poetry Collective (available online). Her work also appears in six anthologies by Laurel and one edited by Nita Penfold, “Hunger Enough.” In 1999 she was among three finalists chosen by Lucille Clifton for the Stan and Tom Wick Poetry Prize. Work is forthcoming in “All You Need is One Avocado,” a chapbook by poets from the Twin Cities to be released in September, 2022. She is presently assembling a second full collection of poetry for which she is seeking a publisher.