The black and white beast is a dumb
and useless thing – as I so often remind
him. A failed parenting experiment
of my reckless youth, who exists always
just underfoot and would sell you without
a thought (lest he run out of the few he
possesses) for a single crumb of last week's
spoiled sourdough.
Never quiet. Never easy. Born with ears that
don’t listen and are prone to infections
that I empty my bank account tending to
every month. As clumsy as a newborn baby
foal. With long awkward limbs that collide
into my skull every night as he curls his
massive form onto the pillow by my head.
A space where he decidedly does not fit.
Meanwhile, I waste precious moments of
sleep dodging his determined tongue –
wet and rough against the jagged scar
that covers the bottom half of my
favorite knee. A disfigurement I earned
a few years back when I dove head first
into oncoming traffic to pull the monster
from the jaws of an oncoming SUV. My
husband jokes the beast didn’t deserve it.
As if love has ever asked what we deserve.
this felt so raw and tender, the way you call him a beast but still dive into traffic for him says everything. loved this one!!
“would sell you without
a thought (lest he run out of the few he
possesses)” — the shade!