Ms. Ruthgard’s shadow
is an awful, clever thing
for when she waved hello to me
it never did the same

and when she trimmed her roses
or walked her little dog
her shadow sulked and slinked and slid
or led her at a jog

she’d sit and read on her front porch
while behind her darkness grew
i wanted to shout out to her
but the shadow saw me, too

one day they found her dead and gone
they said her heart just stopped
she’d tried to change a lightbulb
and left the circuit hot

but Ms. Ruthgard’s shadow
is an awful, clever thing
for though they laid her bones to rest
her shadow…it remains