• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 08

Fancy is a dangerous thing

It was for love, the fancier protests.
The heavy chain tethering
The delicate whippet neck
The droppings piling up
The clumps of hair and feathers
Plucked by their bearers in despair.
I never intended any of this.
Thus yesterday’s fancier
Speaks to today’s hoarder
I only ever marvelled at the beauty of creation
I would have held it close, a good custodian
Not merely a collector, but a lover of all God’s creatures
Although I fear my pride and shallow pockets
May have led to this unfortunate display
Believe me when I say
It was for love I sought them.
So says the figure eaten up by cage and kennel
As our extinction-attuned eyes flit
From human to non-human quick
To note: we’ve seen the show, we know
How this plays out
How the endearing eccentric evolves
Into a kitten-killing beast
The hidden corpses of unknown pets
Resting uncounted, unavenged until
The hoarder is brought out in the open
Flinching at the sudden freedom and exposure
Skittish as a fur farm fox
Equally fearful of our kindness
And judgement.