Spot Treatment

I didn’t read the warning on the jug.

The dog was heaving on the navy wool

and I just wanted the mess to go away.

Now the air is sharp enough to cut,

a swimming pool inside the living room.

The blue is bleeding out into a circle,

turning a sickly, jaundiced yellow

that doesn't belong to any carpet.

The fabric is warm under my hand,

a strange, chemical fever.

My knuckles are tight and white.

I keep rubbing the center of the mess,

stripping the color down to the bone.