Hatred must have it’s own taste
Something that draws us
As with a toy for a dog to chew
Not quite bones or meat
But oh,
The grinding
The grinding
The breaking of words and teeth
As we return to it
As we come to recognize and seek it out
That not stuck in your craw
Is hardening as it goes down
Ready to tear it’s passage
We shall know it by its shoddy
This our dreadful familiar
One of my dogs destroyed a chew toy
Bits emerged later
There the largest piece
Smiling up from the filth
The toy’s face
It grinning as I bent again to clean
Very, very good.
Thanks.
Nice!
Cheers Susie. It is worth a second or third read. Best wishes.
Lovely. Did the toy squeak as your dog expelled it?
The toy did not but the dog did!
I can remember my father having to pull a stuck sock out of the famiy’s golden retriever’s arse once. At that point I decided I wouldn’t have pets.
A wise decision! Yuk.
can never be envied for the coming after your last scene:)
Thanks!
Wonderful, Jim. Such a self-destructive emotion, you’ve summed it up.
Thanks Kate.
Icky. But very, very good.
My thoughts too Holly.
That’s pretty funny when bits come out the other end! Especially a smiley face off a toy. Ps though – ‘its’ never has an apostrophe unless it’s short for ‘it is’. It never has a possessive apostrophe, even when it’s used in that sense. Pedant in me now satisfied. Love the poem!
Thanks – I do have these discussions – butl you know these arty types – get a bit huffy about changing their words.
Glad you enjoyed it!