Puppy Trapped in Storm Drain

That's the headline in the breakfast newspaper.
I conjure up the pup, whimpering and cold.
In a vague way I can hear my husband.
He's telling me: there's someone else.
I love her. I'm leaving you. I'm sorry.
I nod. I'm thinking of the endless optimism
and trust of dogs. The pup believes
her owner or mother will return.
She whines because then help will come.
The headline is all I can see from here.
I talk practicalities with my husband,
who gets what, who lives where and how.
He says, thank you for being reasonable.
I just want that paper. I need it to tell me:
someone made an effort. Someone was kind.
 

(This poem was previously published by Coil Poetry)