POETRY: ANDREW HUBBARD – DANGEROUS

Dangerous

I keep a weasel for a pet
I feed him frogs and birds
He kills them even if he’s not hungry
Then kills them over and over—
Tearing them apart and shaking the pieces
With a rage that never, ever relents.

I feel just the same.

Sometimes he bites and bites
At the wire mesh of his cage
Until his mouth bleeds.

I know that feeling too.

We stare at each other
For an hour at a time
And I know his single thought:
He wants to kill me.

Sometimes I do too.

I don’t mind his death wish on me
I’m used to strangers wanting me dead
It just goes with the territory—

I was trained to kill
Trained to want to kill
Trained well and surely.

Now they’ve flipped the switch:
No more killing.
I’m latent energy
Like an unfired bullet.

They give me pills, counseling.
I don’t listen.
I don’t take the pills.

What would I be without my fury?

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