She endears herself to idle passers-by
By busying herself with personal things
– But everything is personal to her:
Her bite a kiss, her gormless bark a purr
And when she growls, it almost seems she sings
- If you judge not by the ear but by the eye.
I unlock the door and see she’s gotten older.
Who wants an old puppy? Beyond the glass
The world’s as quiet as fish. Inside the store
The din’s insufferable. Hungry animals bore
Me to fury. I warn her: she’s out on her ass
If by New Year’s Day I haven’t sold her.
The people at the window cannot hear
The obscenities she mutters in her cage.
Great tumours grow from satisfying itches
And pretty pups turn into snarling bitches.
I follow her and lie about her age,
Bring down her price, ignore her yellow sneer.
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