Refuge
After the cows and pigs and rabbits were taken, they came, then, for the dogs. The sweet, the rabid, the spaniels, and good boys. They came and no one protested. You thought you would, but after the rabbits, finally, there was no more room for sentiment. For anger. For god. For chew toys–it turns out this inability of love in times of war has a name they didn’t tell us. Something like hunger. Like bones. And the devoted, the averse, in the end were just like anyone. The devoted, in the end, they came for them, too.
About the Creator
Ayva M
is a queer Black poet living in California. You can find her at home, trying desperately to keep her plants alive.
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Comments (1)
Nice storytelling ❤️😉