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Bestial Confession

by Kevin T. McEneaney
Tue Sep 12th, 2017

I’m a wobbly monkey on Mondays,

hanging from the iron bar

with a forced, sardonic grin

as I swing in my cage,

plodding through the motions

of what monkey work

I’m trained to do

for the benefit of you.

 

On Tuesday’s I’m a stripped tiger

on the worn war path,

tearing through my routine

with red claws, devouring

anyone who muddles in my domain,

which is considerably larger

than a human brain thinks.

 

Wednesdays I croon in my cage

like a blue and green parrot

trained to be properly polite,

waiting for the gauche moment

to embarrass my owner

by insulting an invited guest

with my encyclopedic repertoire

of spine-shivering epithets.

 

I’m a badger on Thursdays,

truculent and immoveable

as a thousand pound stone,

weary of life’s platitudes

and the stack of unanswered mail--

I gaze out at the black-and-white landscape

seeing folly that I will not let

move me to act.

 

Friday’s I’m a brown ferret

too tired to dance, so I fidget

with papers and do-dahs

since that’s all I can manage,

unable to wait until

I can catch a breath of fresh air

and the scent of roses

as the sun sets.

 

Grinning and running,

I’m a Saturday zebra

jumping in my bold stripes,

leaping over logs and brush,

peering down ravines,

cluttering my hooves

on the history of humankind

and anything else that comes to mind..

 

On Sundays with glancing sunlight,

I’m a mellow tabby cat

asleep on the couch,

contented with my canned diet

and the odd bloody mouse,

as relaxed as a purr

that invades your ear

and tickles your intestines.