Bone — K.Hunt

You, my little Hubris, refuse to be tackled
Stand tall, lashing out with painfully sharp teeth
What would happen, have ever happened, otherwise?

That which with greatness, destroys
Is so good about you
My hamartic little Hubris defended ’til death
Almost human by your production and destruction
Makes pride in the carnivore
Refusing vegetables nor succumbing to scurvy
Ever pulling at the leash
Pairing motion with desire

So comfortable it is to be unable to distinguish
Between grimace and grin
Growl and groan of contentment
Friend and enemy at the kill
Affectionate nip and brutal laying on of jaws

With feet up before the fire
It is difficult to separate anarchy from entropy
Camaraderie from exploitative symbiosis (negative reciprocity)
At the end of the day

The smell of burning slippers goes undetected
In the reach to stroke the untidy pet

In the warmth of this adoration
My Hubris me overtaketh
Demanding victual