The Leash

“The Leash” is a single stanza of 33 unrhymed lines of free verse. It does share some characteristics with prose poetry because of the focus on storytelling, but the deliberate line breaks place it closer to the lyric.

The structure is a loose kind of concessional argument, a rhetorical strategy that “allows for different opinions and approaches toward an issue, indicating an understanding of what causes the actual debate or controversy” (“Concession.” 2022. Literary Devices). The approach is well-suited to philosophical inquiry because it encourages exploration.

The first 14 lines establish the general context of the poem’s rhetorical situation by offering a vision of a world in distress—a picture of despair. It asks, “what’s left” when the “the unsayable in each of us” (Line 5) is taken away and wonders “isn’t there still / something singing?” (Lines 13-14). The speaker offers no certainty but doesn’t lie either. She says, “The truth is: I don’t know” (Line 14).

The statement opens the second section of the investigation. “I don’t know,” it begins, “But sometimes, I swear I hear it, the wound closing,” (Line 15). The story of the walk, the dog, and the leash is offered as a counter to the corruptions described in the beginning. The conclusion doesn’t give a definitive answer either. It qualifies and softens with words like “perhaps” (Line 29) and “maybe” (Line 30) but doesn’t shy away from articulating a hope that maybe “we can walk together / peacefully, at least until the next truck comes” (Line 33).

The hesitations and confusions surrounding the big questions posed in the poem are reflected in its line structure. Syntactical challenges like enjambment open gaps the reader is forced to bridge. Some places appear in relatively natural spots, setting up a thought or image that is closed at the beginning of the next line, like “she thinks she loves them, / because she’s sure” (Lines 20-21) and “the wound closing / like a rusted-over garage door” (Lines 15-16).

Other instances may cause a reader to pause, consider, or circle back. The first line of the poem, “After the birthing of bombs of forks and fear” is an evocative image, tantalizing and awful. It could be a complete image, but there is no punctuation and the first line folds into “the frantic automatic weapons unleashed,” (Line 2). Is the fear what is unleashed by the weapons or part of the bombs? Line three follows “unleashed, / the spray of bullets” (Lines 2-3). The frantic confusion continues to offer glimpses of a through-line that is finally folded into a question at the beginning of line six. “After the . . . / what’s / left?” (Lines 1, 5, 6). It’s not an easy question to ask or answer.

The second part of the “argument” or concession features are perhaps smoother, breaking at places that add emphasis, build narrative tension, or highlight small moments: “how the dog runs straight / toward the pickup trucks break-necking down / the road,” (Lines 18-20). This is storytelling, a familiar place and one well-suited for the hopeful turn the poem takes.