He's a manchild,
he's a wolf cub,
crowns himself
Nature’s Masterpiece.
He sulks,
he clings,
he lashes,
he lets go
for the briefest moment,
then grips tighter.
His silence is no wisdom,
his stillness is no self-reflection,
his overbearingness is no love.
His hunger
is voracious,
his lust
unquenchable,
his greed
for the things that destroy him
inexplicable.
Sometimes,
I watch
my Doberman pup
gnaw at a bone –
compulsively,
mindlessly,
pointlessly,
like sane people
doing stupid things.
They wrestle
like brothers of the same litter.
After the rush of adrenaline
wears off,
the pup
lies on his chest panting.
My exhausted man
stares at the ceiling
and gleams
as in post-coitus.
Ever ready for another round,
the pup
stands on the summit on all fours
and yelps
at the alpha of the house.
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