‘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.
These poems 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.