‘A new dog!’ she squeals.
‘A Rottweiler, just what I wanted.’
How can I tell her I loathe
and distrust that breed,
and likely won’t rush
to fondle its ugly muzzle?
I could say, ‘I didn’t like
your last three hounds either,
and look how they turned out,
destructive brutes.’ But I don’t
as I didn’t then — though she’s still
finding bits of those old breakages.
I look again for a form of words
not killjoy, not hypocritical.
She’s happy, and besides
she’s bought the thing now
and wouldn’t give it back on my say-so.
‘Enjoy!’ I say, crossing my fingers.
April PAD Challenge 5
Prompt: write a 'too much information' poem.
Some of these poems are autobiographical, some are entirely fictional, and some are a mixture of both. The intention is art rather than self-expression. I don't allow factual details to get in the way of poetry! (I do seek emotional truth.) They are works in progress, and may be subject to revision without notice. Completed versions appear in my books. Nevertheless copyright applies to all texts found here. Copyright also applies to almost all photos posted here, most of which are my own, though a few are licensed under Creative Commons.
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