Arlene Weiner: I’m Vick’s Dog

We’re bred to fight,

fed to fight,

blooded, trained to fight,

hold on tight

till victory

and if we’re chained,

some hanged or brained

who don’t have heart enough,

the right stuff,

no guts, no glory.

We’re hired, wired,

fired up to fight,

no fear.

We take ears.

Good stink

of men around

no candy asses

who drink from glasses

here

money passes

bottles clink

cheers sound.

We’re

born to the pit

never out of it.

—

Copyright 2016 Arlene Weiner. From her collection City Bird published by Ragged Sky Press.