Stay back awhile and I might emerge.
They called me a dog at 10 years,
even as they pawed at me.
Everyone knows a bitch doesn’t belong to herself.
I am the dog in the corner,
the one who yowls melodic.
I taught myself to sing,
and now my cries cause you to
ask to duet with me.
You imagine me
the stronger singer!
I am the dog in the corner:
the fear-biter,
wondering what mayhem you’ll wreak
on each other today.
And, after you’ve finished one another off,
When it is, precisely,
you’ll turn to see me as prey?
I’m jutting my jaw,
mugging, bulldog-style,
so you’ll believe I’m fearsome.
Your type is gullible.
I am the dog in the corner,
nervously gnawing at my own limbs,
trapped in hiding,
shining a spotlight
so bright everything merges, indistinguishable.
And, if we all laugh together,
things will be okay?
Though laughter changes nothing
for us
beyond who we are.
I am the dog in the corner,
a force to be reckoned with.
And, while you’ve been pawing, preying, and machinating,
I’ve been watching you
and counting your victims.
And one day,
a day like any other,
as your taking makes
this place unbearable for any decent bitch,
I will tear out your throat.
