Not far
from a college.
Nevertheless.
A man
living by himself

kept his fighting cocks in plain sight. Each had its 

   own tether and

miniature shed and dish with embossed sobriquet. 

   Their domestication
reserved for battle before the table. Gallus gallus 

   domesticus. A young
male, a cockerel, my husband's patronymic before 

   the adoption. Some hens

are disposed to poach another's egg. Once there 

   were teeth. Given certain 

conditions they could come back. If not a full set. 

   Even now a breathing hole
has to be pipped for the offspring to break out. This 

   is done with an egg tooth.
Not a true tooth. Love among the chickens involves 

   a circle dance. He is
a wonderful dancer. It goes straight to her brain. 

   Before and after they prefer
to wash off in dust. Ashes will work if no dust. If 

   they aren't forced into shedding
one another's blood, they can live until their heart 

   gives out.

The cock
the man
could not
resist
loving.
He withdrew
from
the ring.
Yet
relinquished.
To settle
an unforgiven
debt.

My question is this:
Would you describe yourself
as a wanderer, a friend of the court, amicus curiae, 

   falsely construed as a snitch, a blue yodeler, an 

   apostate, a lost cause, a bird in the house, a 

   biter, a common blogger, a contender, a purse 

   snatcher, a false witness, a palterer, a silkie, a 

   backyarder, channeler
for malevolent spirits, girt in the loins, figure on a 

   shard of black pottery, moderately active, a fog 

   machine, a visionary miserabilist, a chook or a 

   cuckold, a roundhead, a little seditious, a 

   slow-wave sleeper, a dead mule, a gongorist, 

   honey on the comb, half goat half god, a white 

   throwback, crossed with a mongrel, a genesis, a 

   retired fighting
cock,
a doll
named
Memphis.