I guess they’ve faded from my memory’s view.
I can’t distinguish recollections from
the stories told to me. What’s old? What’s new?
The dog that bit me made my mother numb

with fear to see her two year-old with blood
and fright. A firetruck screamed on by, and all
I wanted was to see. And then the flood
of fur, dog muscle, crying. I was small.