September 16, 2021
by Cathy Robinson
I promised not to let the mad dog out.
He suffers only from his own malaise.
He wants out because he hurts.
I can’t believe that some days,
I want to unlock the kennel,
Let him out, set him on a killing spree.
Then watch with grim satisfaction as he is
Finally captured and destroyed.
But I leave the mad dog be,
To drool and snarl, and howl piteously.
Sparkling tears stand in those wild brown eyes.
The mad dog no longer recognizes me.
Instead of letting him out,
I hurl an ice cube,
With ancient fury, onto the tile floor.
It lands with a loud, soul-soothing crack,
And shatters into shards.
Everybody is startled!
Eyebrows are raised.
At least I did not let the mad dog out.