Cricket
Playing
happy
a bird dog chasing birds.
The Beast twirled her gun like a baton;
deemed him unfit,
dangerous;
looked her puppy in the eyes
and ended his life.
May the haunting spirit of the wind whisper his name: Cricket.
Trust was rewarded with a bullet to the brain.
The last thing he saw was your hatred.
The Beast failed him.
Hear his name in the cries of the people: Cricket.
Gravel,
blood
slaughter;
this was your fun.
Goat,
horses,
and a wee pup named Cricket
will unite the hearts, and minds of the country.
Make no mistake,
when you can look in the loving eyes of a puppy and pull the trigger,
evil smiles.
Would she do the same with me?
Disabled, unable to do as she asked.
Am I next?
History repeats itself.
And it all starts with the killing of small animals like
Cricket.
If you like this poem, check out these lovely poems:
Sue Cook lives in Freeport, Illinois with her husband Randy and two dogs. Her passions include assistance dogs, rescue dogs, music, acting, theater, poetry, and Doctor Who. She’s been in both film and theater and is a regular cast member of the podcast Doctor Who’s Line is it….Anyway? Sue is an advocate for the use of Service Dogs to assist their disabled handlers to maintain their independence. Quigley’s Quest, her first children’s book, addresses how a dog becomes a Service Dog.
1 Comment
[…] Cricket, a Poem […]