‘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.
Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your posts as much as possible.