extracts from ‘dog box’

© sophie taylor 2020

square waves

Right after she turned the lock, pulled down her pants and took a seat. Right after she’d close the front door, click the lead and start chasing nothing down the street

the interviews

I couldn’t get her to leave the window until dinner. She loved my cooking. But the things she was saying as she watched the winds pick up. You’ll think I’m mad. She was mad

shanty night

She waited to make sure he wasn’t coming back for more bait or top ups and tumbled herself; quiet, bold and clumsy, straight into The Angler’s Arms