No Swimming Dogs
My brown round hound from the pound
pants with a half smile on the ground.
He refuses to swim, to fetch. He can't jump or guard.
He is toothy, muscle-bound and rubs his back against the yard.
We got for a stroll. Tongue out.His gait hops and skips.
He would bite the ear off of a bullying male and
Plaintively cry and howl for an old or young bitch.
Not the kind of dog that will swim and run next to me on a bike.
All he promises to me is to love and never bite.
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Comments about this poem (No Swimming Dogs by Alana Winner )
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