in the blood sport of
dog fighting the
dogs are trained through
starvation, abuse, isolation, and drugging. they say
this was how they domesticated the first wolves. I think
about Christmas evening how
his hand felt on my inner thigh and the way
eggnog can sometimes taste like poison,
someone else’s pulse can feel like a leash.
there were two other girls between me and the next
Labor Day weekend when
he asked me if I still
loved him and I said yes because I have never learned
how to say anything else to men. I know they kill the weaker ones,
by strangulation, drowning, hanging, electrocution, gunshots,
or sometimes they just use them as bait animals
to train the bigger dogs.
I remember reading magazines in his parlor and breathing
in the smell of his cologne and wondering
if I wore too much makeup because
he called me a slut on my next birthday and my mouth was
empty. I heard they tape
over the jaws of any dog they don’t want
to bite back, that they have a method for which one they want
to die first.
nobody knows where
it really started. religion or sport or
the time when all countries
were third world,
maybe. all I know is I have never known
if my breasts were the right size or how
to properly chew through a muzzle.