The Totem Pole Poem by Patti Masterman

On a sunlit desert day
Like the other thousands of days
Within the faceless sameness of mud-colored houses
One indistinguishable from the next
Which is considered upward mobility in this city between mountains
She told me of the first family canine
Smarter than the kids, he'd sit up
Perfectly at attention, like a soldier
In his own chair perhaps that very one-
As she pointed with wavering finger-
And better behaved too
The next one was crafted with a duller finish
Sort of a mnemonic clone,
Albeit a different color
He filled the mold well enough
He had soul, but not much chutzpah
He slowly dwindled till just a patch of hair
Remained on his kitchen seat of honor
The last mutt she called orphan
A single-parent dog
Lurking beneath the dishwasher
His random barking a fixture
Behind the bottomless telephone conversings-
Her maxim always that she could instantly replace him
With another duplicate copy, exact matched cell for cell
And true to pattern, like his step-mother
He bit other people who did not sufficiently
Impress; or whom he did not fear.