Childless Couple in the Pet Shop
By Martha Christina

She favors the Samoyed
he sucks a cold pipe.
She admires the Afghan's coat
he knocks his pipe out, refills,
tamps, does not light.
The snakes recoil
the mute Basenji
scratches on the glass.

There's a macaw
in the back, the owner
tells them, who's just
the kind of pet they're looking for.
One wing clipped, easy
to train. You can
teach him, he says,
things a dog
can never learn.
You can teach him,
he says, to call
you Mom
and Dad.

© Copyright 1989 by Martha Christina
originally appeared in Poets On: Compromise (Spring 1989)

Martha Christina taught for twenty-five years at Roger Williams University,
where she also edited Calliope and directed Ampersand Press. Her poems also
appear in Tar River Poetry, Crab Orchard Review, The Louisville Review, and
elsewhere.