Enraged Poem by Jon Edward Walker

he snapped and lashed wishing
he wasn't chained
to a tree.
I sat down cross legged
and inched forward
to where his rage
was 2 or 3 inches away
and I looked him
in the eye
and spat
in his face
and growled low
back at him

seven minutes later
he quieted down
but maintained his posture
stiff, erect and
taut against the chain.
Despite all his rage
he was still chained
and even if freed
to tear passer's by
open with his teeth
and claws
he probably wouldn’t

I walk away free
I’ve learned to chain
my rage
myself