Every morning, about 6 a.m., I am awakened
by the barking of my neighbor’s dog as she
lets him out of her back patio door to greet
the sunrise with an eager poop and pee.
My weary eyes blink their way open as I silently
scream, no not again! About four minutes
in, she begins to yell: Buddy, Buddy, come here.
Buddy, where are you? Get back in the house!
One morning I would like to make a recording of this
and use it to beckon my husband in from the garage
where he spends much too long tinkering with his toys.
It’s a shame his name is Bob and not Buddy!
Arlene Antoinette is a poet of West Indian birth who grew up in Brooklyn, New York. She graduated from Brooklyn College and worked as an instructor with disabled individuals for many years. You may find additional work by Arlene at Foxglove Journal, Little Rose Magazine, I am not a silent Poet, Tuck Magazine, The Feminine Collective, The Open Mouse, Amaryllis Poetry, Boston Accent Lit, Sick Lit Magazine, Postcard Shorts, 50 Word Stories, The Ginger Collect, Neologism Poetry Journal and Your Daily Poem.