by Toby Barlow
cue ball moon.
Smiling at their own smiles and
leaning together like slender cedars,
with all the tenderness of foolish love.
Cats have been disappearing
from the neighborhood.
XXXIV
Her girlfriend is late for their Tuesday drink night,
so Bonnie orders another pinot grigio
and asks if maybe she can have some crackers.
It’s been a tense week,
her allergist says it’s the change of seasons
that leaves her feeling all shaky,
but she’s not sure.
Maybe it’s the Santa Anas.
A tall man comes through the door
and asks about the seat beside her.
“I’m waiting for a friend.” She smiles.
“Oh, that’s fine, I’ll stand.” He nods,
and orders a Pellegrino with lime.
Some polite conversation follows,
names, jobs, anecdotes from the day,
then for some reason, whether it’s the wine
or the comforting way he listens,
she keeps going, telling him things
that come from deeper and deeper inside,
the loss of the dog, the fear of the future.
She says nothing of the loneliness,
but she knows it’s there, she wears it like perfume.
She goes on and he sits listening,
with an expression that holds no judgment.
Finally, she pauses,
smiling with a slight blush.
He places his hand
on hers and says,
“Bonnie, have you ever felt
that you were somehow
different?”
When her friend finally shows,
late because her car wouldn’t start,
she finds Bonnie long gone.
The bartender said she left with a fellow
oh, about thirty minutes ago.
Well, good for her, the friend thinks
as she orders herself a rusty nail.
Back at Bonnie’s house
he takes the knife
and slowly cuts himself
along a well-worn
pink-and-yellow scar
running the length of his last finger.
She knows she should be frightened
but she isn’t.
She trusts Lark.
XXXV
Now too,
resting throughout LA,
kneeling before our children,
lying beneath the broad and blond wood tables
where single moms
cut up wet apples and fresh pears.
Now too,
at the crest of the city’s horizon,
trotting alongside runners in the hills
these dogs with their watchful eyes,
pricked-up ears and bristled skin,
are still tense with anticipation.
They move through the days
looking and longing for the once promised
and foretold sign of
Baron.
The new beginning.
An old promise.
They wait,
alert for the moment
when the light changes
and the world rears back
feeling the sharp teeth
of the plan
on its exposed
and waiting neck.
These dogs are ready
sitting patiently
at our feet.
Let us pause now
and close this sanguine song.
Let us cock our own ears and listen
to the random, ringing jangle
of the linked chain
and cool steel leash
dancing together
across the city’s
ever looming twilight.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Dedicated to Nora Montana and Carolina Rose. With gratitude to Jennifer Barth, Stephanie Cabot, and Keira Alexandra. Additional acknowledgment goes out to Chris Desser, Lindsey Stanberry, and Chris Parris-Lamb for their assistance. Thanks also to mom, for letting me get a dog.
About the Author
TOBY BARLOW is executive creative director at the advertising agency JWT in Detroit and a contributor to the literary magazine n+1 and the Huffington Post. He splits his time between Detroit, Michigan, and New York City. Sharp Teeth is his first book.
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Credits
Cover design © Suzanne Dean
Cover illustration © Natasha Michaels
Copyright
SHARP TEETH. Copyright © 2008 by Toby Barlow. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © DECEMBER 2007 ISBN: 9780061843471
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