Judith Lapadat


the existential bark
I, Sophie, command you
stay off my land
I am Sophie
I am here

If there were no ragged brown
eyed dog, her stegosaurus hair
wet chin
bottle-brush paws
trotting back to paint-peeled porch
duty satisfied

how thin and watery
the sun’s long light
meaningless the last green leaves
of the autumn Queen Anne’s cherry
empty the heaved blacktop
as the driveway hopelessly weaves
from gate to vacant porch

I am here
and I and I