They call me creature,

those who come

to dig their fingers into my flesh,

those whose wanton ways

leave me to crawl in their dirt.

They call me such words

that make their tongues as hot as fire,

so their iron can strip me

of my pelt,

their spit burn to my bones

when I am caught

in their slobbering jaws.

They call me creature,



Is my skin not thick and plump?

Is my fur not course and full?

Do they see me as glass?

When they look in these great eyes

do they see themselves,

small, afraid, impotent?

Is that why they call me