Hating Neruda's Dog

Long before he buried his vile mutt
my hussy bitch danced in heat
around his house,
was mounted,
and a few weeks later
her puppies shat upon my livingroom carpet.

I don't beg forgiveness
and I don't belive in the unbridled joy
of dogs

I admit it: I killed him.

I poisoned the brute
and laughed
at his last barked whispers.

and I laughed
as the little fetid light
in his noxious little eyes
blew out.

Served him right.

Now, if I could just get rid of the damned pups.

Don't look at me like that
if you want one say it,
otherwise
that's all there is to it.