In the Veterinary Clinic,
a talk show: people
abused in high school
confront their tormentors.
I sit beside a grim black

lab with bloody ears.
Another dog across the room
sits like Queen Elizabeth.
My cats are in a "container,"
my gray jacket over it

so I can avoid
their terrorized faces.
Some woman on the show
tells of being spat on,
her life damaged

for good.  My turn.  I bring
the cats in - all they want
is to get away.  I close
both doors when we enter
the examining room.

Ken Pobo


If you've any comments to make about his poem, Ken Pobo would be pleased to hear from you.