A Letter from Tigress, the Pit Bull

Dear Large Dark Male:
How is your hairless head? I lay
in the bed and think
of licking it like at
the cage place. Nobody
makes me take many
baths now. I don’t
roll in my crap now.
The large male here
is kind but not boss, a soap
smell but lets no licking though
I get all the plates:
ketchuppy meatloaf, spicy rice, chicken
fingers and bottoms of salad and there’s a lot.
I am so fat! It is glorious! I don’t think how
my own bones tempted me to gnaw myself before
you got me off the road
with the cage truck.
Don’t worry, it’s still secret that
I sat on your lap as we drove.
The large female here is good and full
of smells, I love
the butter, the sour morning, that coffee stuff, the
blood, the armpits after the male
and children go out the door.
We chew each other’s ears and arms on the floor, snooze,
then she zooms around putting things
back and then we walk and it’s good.
The small female is like a turkey but I’m not stupid.
Anyway it’s the small male I adore.
He beats me all the time.
His love for me shakes
his whole body, if he
were a dog he would hump me
like mad! He dives on me screaming
“banzai!” from the sit-relax thing and yanks
on every limb and ratty nipple I have at
least he doesn’t poke
my eyeballs anymore.
His whole face fits in my mouth.
That’s how I kiss him,
pinned on my back
by his loneliness.
The large female says into the talk
thing he is brilliant, only
five, fragile; she’s dull
in the nose, always shocked.
I could smell my destiny on
him the first day!
He pays me
in bed, our bodies
stretched out long playing nose-in-ear, his
breath chocolatey, whispering
all the mysteries
of his days away
from home missing me.
I miss you sometimes, large, dark
male, smelly head, enormous lap,
menthol in the run, oil, gasoline in the garage of the cage
place, spare rib scraps and chop
bones from your home but I
am needed here.
And I am glad,
so glad,
I did not die.
Thank you.
Goodbye!