The scariest dog
I ever met belonged to
Old Mr. Kittman.
Both man and dog seemed to have
Lost a few of their marbles
After the sudden
Death of house-proud Mrs. K.
So when I appeared
At the door to pay a call
I could not say I was shocked
To find the chaos
In that musty living room.
I sank, uneasy,
Into the depths of a couch,
My knees akimbo, at which
The aforementioned
Dog stepped forward with a growl
And placed his muzzle
In the absolutely last
Place I would have wanted it.
Incredibly, my
Host seemed not to care about
My future family
And so we spent the next hour
In muted conversation,
His voice low with grief
And mine restrained so as not
To excite his pet.
Having made its point, the hound
Finally stood up and stretched,
At which I bolted
Ashen-faced for the front door.
But out on the street
I swear I heard them howling
As they watched me through the blinds.
1 comment:
I like this poem for many reasons but not the least of which is the use of the work "akimbo". This is the second time I remember hearing, reading it this year. The first time was in my mother's memorial service when my brother describes my mother as delivering the best sermon on heaven with hands akimbo, after he, as a child, had declared he had no interest in going to heaven if it was like a church service.
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