A soothing ritual, nightly enacted;
a process habitual, rightly exacted:
book on her chest, rum tea on the table a cigarette lit,
it was then she was able to settle and rest
but for the test of patience she faced the mealy-mouthed mutt
with it's yap all agape
she fancied the sight of its muzzle in tape
and conceived small devices with electrical plugs
that would silence the cur-- (but never worked out the bugs);
and so left with her slow-burning rage for this hound
she resolved to take no more of this lying down
she had squirmed and turned and yearned to be free
of the maddening burn in her breast
brought on by the pest
of the dog.
A fog of anger had welled heated, bubbled, swelled
'til all her thoughts were zeroed in
on when the dog would begin again.
she had tried to fashion it into a game two beats,
four beats pitch change and range
but the idea that merely a leaf in the wind
could let loose barrages of barking again
was too much to bear.
she saw the man there
through the window upstairs
loading useless antiques at the back of his truck
oblivious, deaf and what the fuck
is so tough about hushing the noise
made by Toby or Fido or little McGruff
(or whatever the hell his name was)
she wondered what his game was?
did he wish to drive his neighbors half insane
(perhaps that was his stealth: he wanted the street to himself)
like the bother of a grain of sand in one's shoe?
she wondered who would blame her for muting the mutt forevermore?
snatching a jacket donning her sneaks
she left on a mission resisted for weeks
and weeks without end: to stifle the vocals of man's best friend.
down the drive and across the street
crept she on her rubber-soled feet
back to the cage where the wretched dog dwell
heart thumping wildly hoping like hell
he was ugly and mean
or a sick shade of green
to make the task easier
so to walk away clean
and there stood the mongrel his black soupy eyes
in question upon her
and a dubious wag of a bobbed-off tail
betraying a trust in the hand that could fail
to halt before it struck him
low creature meets high and the two stare awhile
the dog finally sitting with an ignorant smile
upon his black-furred lips brown fur at the tips
of its ears cocking its head and waiting.
hesitating, she squatted down to study the nemesis closely
and found the hound was mostly
quite cute and had ceased its cries
since eyes met eyes
and ribs protruding from meatless sides
its bowl overturned in the cage empty
the water basin dry
and she knew why her anger grew so great
for dumb creatures have not the power to care for themselves
while captive but man in his mindless state
cares for nothing save himself and this was worthy of her anger.
a hand reached out to pat the pooch through chain-link fence
the change of heart making sudden sense
and she stood, her heart full of something foreign and sad
a feeling she knew she should have had
long ago. a flick of a finger released the gate
the pup cocked its head confused at his fate
and she smooched at the pooch
and offered a hand. it came over to greet her
entreat her to be kind
and in her mind
she knew what to do to solve the dilemma
and reached for the mutt and held him still it licked her face as puppies will
and turning she made off with mongrel in hand
back to her house for a nice juicy can
of stew and some water it's all he needed she thought,
and he oughta be much calmer next door
on a rug on the floor
with a master who loves and adores
and the puppy was quiet forevermore
a process habitual, rightly exacted:
book on her chest, rum tea on the table a cigarette lit,
it was then she was able to settle and rest
but for the test of patience she faced the mealy-mouthed mutt
with it's yap all agape
she fancied the sight of its muzzle in tape
and conceived small devices with electrical plugs
that would silence the cur-- (but never worked out the bugs);
and so left with her slow-burning rage for this hound
she resolved to take no more of this lying down
she had squirmed and turned and yearned to be free
of the maddening burn in her breast
brought on by the pest
of the dog.
A fog of anger had welled heated, bubbled, swelled
'til all her thoughts were zeroed in
on when the dog would begin again.
she had tried to fashion it into a game two beats,
four beats pitch change and range
but the idea that merely a leaf in the wind
could let loose barrages of barking again
was too much to bear.
she saw the man there
through the window upstairs
loading useless antiques at the back of his truck
oblivious, deaf and what the fuck
is so tough about hushing the noise
made by Toby or Fido or little McGruff
(or whatever the hell his name was)
she wondered what his game was?
did he wish to drive his neighbors half insane
(perhaps that was his stealth: he wanted the street to himself)
like the bother of a grain of sand in one's shoe?
she wondered who would blame her for muting the mutt forevermore?
snatching a jacket donning her sneaks
she left on a mission resisted for weeks
and weeks without end: to stifle the vocals of man's best friend.
down the drive and across the street
crept she on her rubber-soled feet
back to the cage where the wretched dog dwell
heart thumping wildly hoping like hell
he was ugly and mean
or a sick shade of green
to make the task easier
so to walk away clean
and there stood the mongrel his black soupy eyes
in question upon her
and a dubious wag of a bobbed-off tail
betraying a trust in the hand that could fail
to halt before it struck him
low creature meets high and the two stare awhile
the dog finally sitting with an ignorant smile
upon his black-furred lips brown fur at the tips
of its ears cocking its head and waiting.
hesitating, she squatted down to study the nemesis closely
and found the hound was mostlyquite cute and had ceased its cries
since eyes met eyes
and ribs protruding from meatless sides
its bowl overturned in the cage empty
the water basin dry
and she knew why her anger grew so great
for dumb creatures have not the power to care for themselves
while captive but man in his mindless state
cares for nothing save himself and this was worthy of her anger.
a hand reached out to pat the pooch through chain-link fence
the change of heart making sudden sense
and she stood, her heart full of something foreign and sad
a feeling she knew she should have had
long ago. a flick of a finger released the gate
the pup cocked its head confused at his fate
and she smooched at the pooch
and offered a hand. it came over to greet her
entreat her to be kind
and in her mind
she knew what to do to solve the dilemma
and reached for the mutt and held him still it licked her face as puppies will
and turning she made off with mongrel in hand
back to her house for a nice juicy can
of stew and some water it's all he needed she thought,
and he oughta be much calmer next door
on a rug on the floor
with a master who loves and adores
and the puppy was quiet forevermore
