I lie on the bed with my dogs.
One is indignant, hates the others
upbraids me for having them.
Another is long-faced, hot and heavy
And takes my spot.
The third, on her back, is a
comedy of contortion,
licks my hand, needs nothing else.
I think, what is the lack this is?
What, the fullness, this was?
I stake a place amidst the pack;
my arms and legs twitch.
Hours later, I feel lucky
to remember no dreams.
copyright Julianza Shavin 1/10/84