I’m pigtails in your dirt, a woman you
can hurt. An ambush in the plains remade
romantic rooftop rut against a flue
of brick. Your sick suggestions my legs splayed
so slick, such sentiments conveyed. A pet
you let off leash to lunge, a little, roam,
midnight inside a plastic park. Swingset
assignations after dark then bring me home:
a blanket and a bone. An animal
your own, once prey you tackled, trained, renamed
not tame behind discreet suburban walls.
This animus domestic unrestrained,
a gingerbread McMansion underneath
two predators who haven’t lost their teeth.
Author’s Note: Happy New Year Medium! Thanks for reading my first sonnet of 2018! If this is an indication, it’s going to be a wild year.