Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you
my inner cur. See how I slink
along the outskirts of parties,
hoping you won’t notice how little
I bring. You’ve probably kicked me
in irritation, or just to force me out
of your valuable, important way.
I’ve never really claimed
the spotlight, but yesterday two powerful
friends, daring to speak truth
illuminated me in my shivering,
cowering, pee-stained crouch
in the corner: submissive, longing
for attention even though I know
I’m doing this all wrong.
I’ll never get it right.
And now that you see me,
I blink, struggling to maintain
my lowly stance. I’ve not
been celebrated before. If you knew
my lineage, my true
and worthless self, you would
run away, I’m sure of it.
I know that I have always
shunned me. Even so, today
I hold myself out
(empowered by a tribe)
for your inspection. Among the gasps
of disgust, I hear
a comment about how mongrels
can be the most loving,
and so unique! I straighten
my spine just a bit,
feeling into this being,
accepting the invitation
to unveil at last
wretched me locked away
in the cold — although I’m sure
that I’m not doing this right.