Like a fenced-in dog

by June 4, 2018 0 comments

I’ll wear paths behind barbed wire, deep,
start a tunnel every three feet. Pit bull

waiting my chance — growl, howl, foam,
bite any hand holding a phone. I know

moist treats, meaty bones, all will be
distant memory once I escape,

hit the street. I’ll crap lawns, kill cats,
chase Amazon trucks, police, priests,

make veterinarians not charge a fee.
I’ll torture hydrants with angry pee.

editors note:

All us dogs are awaiting our chance. In the meantime… fetch! – mh clay

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