Hour 6

Sliding Sonnet for a Side-Bitch


The air is cold, the night is deep

and I on bended haunches creep

like feral dog, to where you sleep

more like than not, untroubled


I express a desperate whine

outside your door, the thousandth time

open up, oh please be mine

my simpering love redoubled


This pathetic vigil faithfully kept

all the nights while you slept

in company you despised except

when I came close enough to meet them


You pet me, praise me, throw me a bone

then leave me shivering out here alone

outside your oh-so-happy home

promising one day, one day I shall unseat them.


A master’s hand is a brutal thing

when encased inside a metal ring

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