Brown Dog

He’s a brown dog conditioned in chains. He lives with a castrated desire. His urges are groomed. To be gentle, he must be docile. His fangs sink into the flesh in a red China plate. He sucks on a daydream. Fetters are unfastened in the dark. Yet he can’t chase that street . There’s an ID tag attached to his neck. Sincerity is a strain. Even a Norway rat scratches his sleep. He can lunge, snarl, yap, and is proud of his vigour. But all are transient illusions. His hind legs swell horribly. A vet diagnoses an incurable fate. Heart-worms of despair spread in rapidly. Master shuts gate on his face, not paying any gratuity. Wisdom eyes open in his sultry brain. Whining is in vain before iron bars. He deciphers nonsensical side of barking. Dropping past litter in the doghouse, he limps away through experience like an ascetic. First printed in The Literary Hatchet