Running into My Husband’s Dentist and His Dog on the Golf Course by Terri Kirby Erickson

My husband’s dentist has this giant
poodle named Ned that sits as still
as a statue on the golf cart seat, his
profile regal, his fur flapping in the
breeze as they blow by my husband
and me on their way to the next hole.
It must be nice not to have a dentally
challenged room-full of patients to
deal with on a fine spring day when
the sun is casting its rays of light all
over the place, as bright and happy
as a sparkler. We’re pretty carefree,
too, since only a few of my husband’s
golf balls have flown into the woods
and we just saw a great blue heron
standing in a shallow pond among the
detritus of other golfers’ errant shots.
And it occurs to me that the dentist
and his furry partner look a lot alike—
both lean and fit with the admirably
erect posture of professional athletes
or generals, yet there is no look at me,
look at me flash about the two of them.
They are just a kind man and his well-
behaved dog, enjoying a round of golf
and waving at a patient and his wife
who are grinning at him right now with
teeth he doesn’t have to pull, fill, or clean.



Terri Kirby Erickson is the author of eight collections of poetry, including The Light That Follows Us Home, which will be released by Press 53 in the fall. Her work has been widely published and has won numerous awards, including the Joy Harjo Poetry Prize and International Book Award for Poetry.