The Shepherd scrapes
the aluminum bowl on the concrete with her nose,
a toy when it becomes empty. All night
I hear her toss the aluminum bowl.
She gets thinner inside her cubicle of wire
each time I walk down the wooden stairs
to the back yard, she barks a thin noise
while another brown dog runs outside.
Sometimes I pitch doggie bones
over the fence. They plunk against her grate.
Sometimes the brown dog pushes her snout
through the wire. It doesn’t help.
The Shepherd wags her tail.
She wants to know when it will be her turn to run.