I liked to think I had a magic touch
with animals, as if they knew I meant
no harm or hunt. Respecting them as much
as people, deeming them intelligent,
I noted critters never made me cry.
(I almost felt a bee when I was eight
and napkin-trapped a drone against my thigh,
but I was left unsplintered on that date.)

I’ve sometimes jumped between two dogs; no tooth
or claw attacked me as I stopped their fight.
I meet the eyes of wild birds. In truth,
a stranger-puppy nipped me just last night,
and then I wondered: have I lost my charm?
(He didn’t break my skin. I took no harm.)