Every Dog Barks But I Whine

By Lydia Lim

Every dog barks but I whine. Primal, the distance sets in, me with the cage, the burn of cold iron. Every violent wind blows out of its socket. With a bone, and a ball, I wag my tail. Throw me a stick, and I’ll fetch it. You can remove the canine from the dog, but can you remove the yowling from the animal? Good boy! Every admonishment flinches harsh, the quick sallow swallow stuck in a throat. When you come back, I’ll wait in the hallway, pacing a hole into the carpet. But still, I’ll be a good pet. If you buy me the collar, I’ll bring you the leash. I’ll whine, eyes affixed. 

By Lydia Lim