Today's prompt: "I want you to write a poem about an object (or objects). Though you don't have to confine yourself to straight up description, I do want you to focus on object and/or make it a central piece of your poem. One of the more famous poems of contemporary literature does this wonderfully in William Carlos Williams' "The Red Wheelbarrow."
Max and Merlin's collars were lying on the table. I picked them up, to go hang them on the hook in the kitchen, but the mere whisper of tags brought both dogs to my side in a flash, eyes wide and non-existent tails wagging. Collars are magical objects in my house, the ticket to faraway places in Corgi eyes. I could read their thoughts--"Oh, joy, we're going for a walk/ride!!" They were about to quiver apart from happiness. Max stuck his neck out for the collar. Merlin did his moonwalk-happy-twirl-o-joy. You know what happened next.
We went for a ride.
A plastic click locks the nylon circle
around your neck. Instead of rebellion
I get a tail wag and lick of gratitude.
You don't feel oppressed, enslaved,
or even bothered by the implications
of collar and jangling tags. Meaning
is simple-we're going for a walk,
or better yet, a ride in the car. No
subjugation of your inner canine,
merely another step in daily ritual.
Synthetic, cotton or leather, lined
with sheepskin or plain, red, blue,
paw print patterned or stylized
bones, it's all the same to you. I
choose to wrap the latest behind
your tall ears-a band emblazoned
with your name and phone number,
so everyone sees, and all will know
that I am the one responsible.