Holiday Cur Sings
Ambition has no season. Nor does
blessing or curse, two presents we long for
and fight against in any season.
I have been given a bone with a bow.
I carry it into my dark kennel,
gnawing away with purpose, with passion.
I will not savor it. I will not be sated.
We are both hopeful. We both howl.
We both lived in cages that are locked
each night. We both dream, and whimper.