Welcome to the 259th Virtual Poetry Circle!
Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.
Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.
Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.
Today’s poem is from Dawn Marie Kresan’s Muse:
Housebroken (page 18)
The Pet, Walter Deverall, 1852. Oil on Canvas.
She stands in a doorway, on the threshold
between home and garden, peers inside
a bird cage. It is no wonder pets love their captor —
well fed and doted upon, the canary is full of melody,
the dog lazily snuffles at your feet.
No cares gnawing at the bone.
All kindness and kisses. So you think.
Protection has its costs.
Birds flounder in sorrow. Wings clipped,
they feel for the hand reaching in as one feels toward
a punishing god. Yes, they are pampered, given teeny
treats, fed daily morsels until docile and blithely paunch.
The dog, taught to beg for affection, must always
please. If it disobeys, the hand that now lovingly
strokes the ear’s soft cushion, will strike
quick as lightening. Pain pulsing
through its skull, the high pitched yelps, its nose
rubbed into the mess it made.
What do you think?