Traitor to Sheba

In my mind: a little Shepherd bitch

I owned a very long time ago.

She’s dead. I took her to be put down.

Now, it seems, she wants out,

out of a cage never occupied,

cruel, confining, cold.

She sees me and yelps. 

She knows we know

who each other are

and what is right.

What do I do? This is not substantive.

How can there be any question about it?

One choice costs no more than another.

Guilt and discomfort weigh.