Short Barkley Poems

Barkley Wants Dinner

My little dog is barking
through thin air,
inhaling the promise of food.
With every breath
he augments his desire
for meat
with deep pride
in his wolf ancestry:
the gnashing of teeth,
followed by propped-eyebrow
inquisitive cocked-noggin.

His eyes dart
toward bird-flight,
then downward
toward the kingdom of bugs.
Looking toward the clock
he miscomprehends.
Begging becomes him
in a miniature-wolf
bobble-head sort of way....

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