Parody # 6: The Spoodle (Home From the Lab)

(with apologies to R. M. Rilke and his ‘Panther’)

 

His vision, from neurotic genes

Has grown so confused it cannot bear

Life. It seems to him there is

No line, and in his mirror image, no life.

 

As he squeals and rolls his eyes, again

He totters on rickety, confected pegs

Like the fabricated gait of a wind-up doll

In which no sentience occurs.

 

Only at times, the veil lifts

Quietly; he sees a dog from the pound,

A vague picture forms of real life and love – 

It clambers through his button eyes, plunges the metal heart

and is gone.