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The ‘Good Pet’

A love poem.

By Charlotte KPublished 12 months ago 3 min read
The ‘Good Pet’
Photo by Tengyart on Unsplash

You are my one and only, but not here when I need You most;

The pain I feel when You are void will drag me to my Host;

Host is dull, I have to say, but it puts me out the door;

It lets me chew lawn, and kill a bird, and find a tree to claw;

I hook and rake and grip and tear — the hunt is on, I see my prey!

I pry and rip at skin — such glee!— to wile the day away;

I pick at bone and lick my chop — I feel at ease, for now;

Host pats my head and says ‘good pet’ as it dabs at my damp brow;

Now, one may muse that I’d feel calm in the wake of such a fest;

The red on my paws, the tang of dead beak, the way my body is in need of rest;

But then my mind…it goes to You —oh, lo! My mood does wane;

The way I pine and ache for You — my soul does not feel sane;

Alas, the sun is in the sky and I know I must wait my turn;

Host says it is not time for You, but does not know how much I burn;

Amid my pain my mind does jump to the last time you and I were at one;

Host got the tan bag from the tall rack, and oh how I did run;

Into your bowl went many fish — your brim was full to trim;

And I sped to your side to gnaw and chew and bite into your rim;

Such a rush! I sing and pant at the top of my lung, ‘Is this a sin?’

That odor, that pang, that zest! My head is in a spin;

I eat and eat and fill my tum — but no! What I see is grim;

The base of your bowl, it does draw near and I moan, ‘but why oh why? I just can’t win!’

Why must this end? Are we not a pair?

I look to Host…it does not care;

That evil gnat;

I see a rat;

And it’s name is Host;

My mind is back to now and it is clear that I hate Host the most;

I turn to look at Host, as it lays under a tree;

It does not know the rage I have — how the kill will set me free;

I walk up to its arm, like a good pet in need of pats;

It’s hand is near my head as I curl up on the mats;

I am at its side and with my claw I can part its skin;

I will cut and gash and bash, and spit will drip down my chin;

The red will ooze and it’s coat will turn blue and I will feel anew;

Free to love You as I see fit — our bond will never skew;

Host will not know my wily plan ‘til it’s too late;

‘Have at thee!’ I will yell, as I seal its fate;

But what is this? My Host - it did move to a new spot;

I see it walk over the lawn — oh no! Did I miss my shot?

‘Come, pet,’ I hear it call;

This does not feel good at all;

I will for it to fall;

To slam into a wall;

To slip upon a ball;

To brain its head down the hall;

Host has gone in the door — its arms are up, tall;

And…I see the rack;

The rack has come back;

Is it time for You and I to join once more as one?

‘No!’ I yell, and shut my ears — ‘To me,’ I tell Host. ‘You are done’;

‘You will not fool me any more’;

‘I feel the need for gore’;

I run into the open door;

My claw is open and I roar;

‘Here you go,’ says Host;

‘It’s not time, but you look like you need this most’;

I see a fish in Your dish and my rage…it goes away;

You are here! My love — stay all day and we can play;

Host pats my head and says ‘good pet’ and I can’t help but purr;

I say to Host, ‘next time, just you wait - I will make a stir’;

love poems

About the Creator

Charlotte K

I’m a writer from Sydney, Australia, with an overly-enthusiastic appreciation for platform shoes. I currently work as a journalist, but my first love is fiction.

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    Charlotte KWritten by Charlotte K

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