Life is Never Meaningless, There is Always Food

Dog Kibble: A Villanelle


Life is never meaningless: there is always food.
All day I sit upon the stairs, nose between the bars,
and consider kibble – its smell, its taste, its mood –

and I am happy. We walk back to the woods
after lunch (me and the humans) and under leaves there are
so many dark crunchy things to eat that I should

not eat but I eat anyway. They are so good!
Even when they make me sick at home or in the car,
I like them. I like to eat. I brood

about the taste of kibble hours before it’s chewed.
They keep my meals in the kitchen in a plastic jar.
Don’t put me on your couch, please, Dr. Freud,

I’m sweet and simple and I’m good.
When I’m sad or sick, not up to par,
I sleep downstairs curled near the toilet. I’m not crude.

I’ve known shame, and joy, and I have viewed
delicious sights. I don’t wander. I don’t go far.
Life isn’t meaningless because there’s food.
Consider kibble: its smell, its taste, its mood.

-Charles Baxter