Pursuing the poetical, paradoxical, metaphorical, lyrical, artistical, majestical, and mystical.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Gordy's Mitzi


Dad has a pup curled up still
 in the corner
with a belly full of batteries. 
He quivers no cow herding dreams 
 and only breathes when you turn him on. 

 When the milk barn telephone went off
 he would never torment that cow
 by swinging madly on her tail.  

He doesn't smile for cookies, shed, 
or make a mess. 

This pup's has no ears to anticipate 
the whistle coming from his master, 
no eyes to watch intently
 for the beloved hand
 sweeping towards the calf 
needing separated from the herd. 
Never will he run flat out, belly
to the ground, tongue dripping joy. 
He won't ever beg for food, 
or beg for more of the work
 he was born and bred for. 
This pup won't die with
 sides heaving,
trying to please his master 
whose hand he can't lick. 

1 comment:

S. Etole said...

so much longing for the real ...