Shakespeare cursed a pup,
sitting in his chair,
“Out, damned Spot,” he said.
“You’ll not be sitting there.”
Pavlov had a dog,
drooling with delight,
Waiting for a bell to ring,
Sometime in the night.
Picasso’s howling horse,
Ears & eyes askew,
What-ever was its name?
No-one ever knew.
Pets & pals asunder,
strung across the night,
Like bitter-bells & shotgun shells,
Littered out of sight.
What poets bring to fist-fights,
& dancers bring to pews,
Be-love-ed pets give artists,
Hanging in the Louvre.
Know-not your die-hard true-loves,
Faithful to the end?
Not brides nor grooms, forks & spoons,
But little feathered friends.
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