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
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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