Kevin Young’s poem “Blessings” has this stanza, which I adore:
May the white dog
of Mercy drag you
from the car long before
it pours into flame.
May Mercy come
So I wrote this, about Clover, who does not inspire adoration.
May the black dog
of Mischief stir up
trouble just as
you close your eyes to nap.
May Clover ignore
May she bark at the squirrel until, next door, Annie gets her gun.
May she leap on your stomach after you’ve thrown up, to wish you well.
May she dig nonsense holes to nowhere
that you trip in. May she lounge on the table,
stare at you with blind eyes, flip her flippity tail and say.
Actually, I did drag you from the car in time.