| The Honey Land Review Spring 2010 Volume 2, Issue 2 |
I have become the family dog.
The goldfish died and it is too cold
for extended leash training.
I pant, threaten tantalizingly close licks,
and spasm the opposite leg when an ear
is scratched.
My housebroken stage
exceeds my toddler daughter.
I earn money, don’t chew tripod legs,
do basic math, have my inoculations,
and protective instincts.
Spring arrives and I am traded up
for a dumb friend’s league pooch,
a term I unnecessarily resent like alien or Dick.
The goldfish died and it is too cold
for extended leash training.
I pant, threaten tantalizingly close licks,
and spasm the opposite leg when an ear
is scratched.
My housebroken stage
exceeds my toddler daughter.
I earn money, don’t chew tripod legs,
do basic math, have my inoculations,
and protective instincts.
Spring arrives and I am traded up
for a dumb friend’s league pooch,
a term I unnecessarily resent like alien or Dick.
| Doghouse Wanted Paul Handley |
| Photo by Shayne Herrera |
Paul Handley spent a career as a student and a student of odd jobs. He has an MA, an
MPA, and is ABD. He has driven a cab and sold meat door-to-door. Paul has poems
included or forthcoming in hundreds of publications such as Anemone Sidecar, Boston
Literary Magazine, Red Fez, Triggerfish Critical Review and others.
MPA, and is ABD. He has driven a cab and sold meat door-to-door. Paul has poems
included or forthcoming in hundreds of publications such as Anemone Sidecar, Boston
Literary Magazine, Red Fez, Triggerfish Critical Review and others.
Copyright © 2010 The Honey Land Review All rights reserved.
All content contained within this site is protected by copyright laws.
Unauthorized use of graphics or literary material is strictly prohibited.
All content contained within this site is protected by copyright laws.
Unauthorized use of graphics or literary material is strictly prohibited.
| PREVIOUS |
| NEXT |