Each morning I listened
to him **** as he slowly awoke
I jokingly called it "surfacing"
and I, like any wary prey,
gathered my armor for the day
This man thrashed so hard
in his sleep he'd bruised me
dreaming of his mother
again
WHY I OUGHTA he says
and TO THE MOON ALICE
I say in my head
He weighed himself each morning
and grew to twice my size
as I inevitably dwindled to half
if only he would join a pack
and hunt better meat than me
But I was separated from
mother love long ago
So now I'm more like penned veal
barely a meal and this is what
saves me from the cutting machine

He has decided on therapy
a diet of sorts, as he learns to eat
but not swallow and it's much like
training a dingo to be a deer
who is smart enough to let
his garden grow even if one night
feels like an eternity, never having
felt the sting or the birth of denial