I have puppies in my cubicle.
Picture pages of a calendar from last year.
The calendar was a Christmas gift
from my mother-in-law.
 
I hated that calendar.
There were too many Maltese.
But there were
a few salvageable shots.
Nothing abstract.
Just puppies in a row.
Or asleep.
Or popping up out of a barrel.
 
But I kept it,
because I'm fond of my mother-in-law.

It was up on my cubie wall all last year.
 
I thought I would be so relieved
when the year was done
so I could get rid of that awful calendar.
 
But instead
I sheared a few pages out
and tacked them up
with my family pictures
and my son's drawings.
 
They wouldn't do
against the backdrop of a window
or tacked up around wood and leather
 
But in a corkboard stall
where industrial lights beat down
illuminating each pocket
of the giant gray beehive
something about puppies
make you want to die a little less.