Thirteen ways of Looking at a Maltese

Among many cozy covers
I lost the little thing
Where the heck is that Maltese.

I'm losing my mind
can't you see
How can I chase three Maltese?

The Maltese wet in the autumn leaves
It was a small walk for that pal 'o mine.

A man and a woman
have fun.
A man and a woman and a Maltese
watch TV.

I do not know which he prefers
a bowl of wet dog food
or the beauty of many kibbles—
The Maltese slurping
or just crunching.

Faces small in the front window
with nostril stained glass
The bobbing of the Maltese
Crossing it, up and down
Their mood
traced to my footfalls
Are they waving their little paws?

O you men of Main Street
Why do you maneuver giant dogs?
Do you not see how the Maltese
Walks around my feet
And hot women approach me?

I know comic accents
And stupid, inescapable limericks;
But I know, too,
That there are no Maltese jokes
In what I know.

When the Maltese ran out of sight,
It marked the edge
of my neighbors hibernum.

At the sight of Maltese
playing in a green park
even the grouchiest of jerks
would forgo frowning.

He flew over Connecticut
way back in coach.
Once he got nervous
but then he just hugged
his well behaved therapy dog
A Maltese.

That daisy is moving.
The Maltese has gone pee pee.

It was pizza all afternoon.
It was football
And it was going too long.
The Maltese sat
In the La-Z-Boy.

by Phil Huffy

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Phil Huffy started writing poems in late 2017. He placed nearly two hundred pieces in journals since that time and is pleased to be eminently googleable. His moderate success may be due in part to his use of various styles of poetry, metrical and otherwise. He plans to release a book of limericks in 2020 (unless his wife finds out) written to the same high standards to which he customarily aspires.