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a wicker basket
has been converted
into the dog's toy box,
constantly rummaged through
for the best,
most tasty bone available.
so many toys,
some ravaged and unrecognizable
others sparkling new, never touched.
a stuffed gopher with pink feet,
the mouth torn open so wide it appears to be screaming in pain,
for it's guts have been removed.
I guess Santa's ordering off the internet this year,
his feet are gone and his rosy cheeks aren't rosy anymore.
and Rudolph's nose no longer glows
and the song he sings sounds more like an expression of blind agony,
for his eyes have been temporarily removed.
a cat toy in the shape of a mouse
no longer smelling of catnip, smells more like wet dog.
a tasty beef bone
that's now growing something flaky and white,
no longer useful as a dog bone.
fits more as disposed garbage at the dump.
three tennis balls
missing their once-bright yellow fur.
toys unused, bones un-chewed.
squeaking mini rubber shoes,
rawhide bones and footballs,
a fire hydrant gone untouched by a dog's sniffing nose.
now the basket sits outside
in the rain
temporarily occupied by
a potential black widow.
(college poetry assignment)
