The length of my dog’s leash. Meeting another,
feet between wary humans,
sniff nose to nose.
How tall my father was, or so he
couldn’t always trust
The width of a cell in San Quentin Prison,
counting men stacked in bunks
air, no phone call.
The distance between two not-yet-lovers, masked
strangers, no touch
no hands, no mouths.
The depth of the average grave,
except in genocides,
and pandemics like this one
you have to share.
The width of my queen size
two, most nights. Sometimes
want it all for myself.
* * * * *
Dotty LeMieux’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in publications such as Rise Up Review, Poets Reading the News, Gyroscope, MacQueen’s Quinterly, anthologies such as the Marin Poetry Center Anthology, Moonshadow Sanctuary Press’s Enskyment, and others. She has had four chapbooks published, the latest just out from Finishing Line Press, entitled Henceforth I Ask Not Good Fortune. In the 1980’s, she edited the literary magazine Turkey Buzzard Review, in Bolinas California.
Her day jobs are running political campaigns, mainly for progressive women, and practicing environmental law in Marin County California, where she lives with her husband and two dogs.