Here, at the park
where we have marked
time
and distance
in a loop
this lost year,
the late afternoon sun
behind me
merges my dogs’ shadows
into a 3-headed Cerberus.

(Superman flew in circles
so fast
he reversed the Earth’s spin,
so Lois Lane never died.)

Here at the park,
Cerberus strains
against my dark leash
and pulls my umbra
around the asphalt path
again.