Me, like Christ denied three times

By blokes all bluster no bite 

the words congeal and die stuck to his throat

No more a foot in mouth than lover’s oversight 

 

I ask of our loveling’s whereabouts 

Me, contained after passage over land and sea

He, proprietor of my puplet

Uncharacteristically silent until garbling— they, they 

Out for a walk! Out for a stroll! Out yonder entirely out of my control 

 

Would you let a bitch walk a bitch?

Eat your words for filial pie?

Dangle the life of your life—who’d no doubt follow, soft-pawed

Not knowing better since he is man’s best after all 

that he’s just been pawned for pixel time 

Under the guise of a mother not mine 

 

There my boyfriend rots in front of his screen

Here i pace in my sweet, collecting rage

And ? where ? she trots I have not a clue

Because man made it so 

handed the reins over;  

 hoping my joy returns in one piece 

The  prodigal son goes, astray, the maternal bogey alights with my furry footed love on a wild goose chase under the farce of care

The man dog doesn’t follow in his stead, 

The old bitch who whelped him