The Animal

That old, venerable animal that you find on your way to home, a place where apprehension is allowed a room. The silly stray, that which appears after a collar has been put around your neck that has left a blue-black mark of permanence, a cost too great to witness such a beast. On slow days of non-violent chores, your hand gets cut doing dishes and you sit down to limit the loss of a thick, senescent color that exudes out of your skin, you call it blood and it paints a very real picture of a time, a loss, some love, some defeat and you realize that you’ve tamed the wild, dainty animal that calls itself patience. Teach that to a paper.