Poodles’ bling bling
In the Mansion of the Dog Star the poodles blink,
Blink in their bling, bling.
Their bloodline as thin as the blank stare of any
Ivy leaguer in lettered sweater. Carrying papers,
of lineage, and privilege, Skipper, Rex,
Madge and Winkie hold court.
With egress to the avenue, these royal heirs of
Pamperdom walk their walkers.
Piddle in poopers carried through palaces and presidential suites.
This breeds’ haunches are higher
Their intelligence, scientifically proven.
In the evening, they look up from their carriers in
upscale restaurants at anorexic models sniffing saccharine
drinks blowing kisses at their coddled toy, miniature, minions,
sitting in Hermes carriers, wearing Gucci sweaters
They are registered for silverware and place sets,
They are given maids whose backgrounds have
Foreign names to feed them biscuits from flaky fingertips.
To preheat the cream. Some say they resemble their masters.
In a manner of speaking, but whose talking? Noone is talking.
They aren’t talking.
Annabelle Baptista
|