my measure

No better than a dog, I am
easily fooled and overruled, a slave
to my sack of gut, nose aquiver
with the season. Sometimes, I wince
at the weight of your hand; sometimes,
I importune into whatever cleft
comes closest. I am not the best exemplar
of my breed and can only hope myself
familiar enough to keep my place,
endearingly fond, so that while I stare
mournfully at the front door,
you summon me from the back.

  • Devon Balwit