Hair of the Dog – a poem

Distilled spirits

Calm familiar

It’s that first bite

Clear cold and tight

Hair of the dog that bit me

Always pictured that literally, visually

Unhappy Beast

With claws

Tamped down for cause

She detests

She protests

Hurls invective inventive insults

Incompetence abounds

Forced to attend the Stupid Olympics

Wherein everybody loses

When everybody wins, she is not wrong

But is she me?

Published by Ms. C. G. Tripp

Catherine G. Tripp, Writer/Investor a lifelong mix. Left brain and right brain battle for dominance. I wrote the marketing materials for my mortgage brokerage, had a personal finance column at, wrote essays, short stories and poems published in school papers and magazines then literary journals. If my writings were a color, they would be yellow, bright as sunlight, highlighting the salient portions, not obscuring the past but deconstructing air brushed stories, finding humor and courage in the unloved corners.

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