Docking Poem by Dónall Dempsey

I never knew why
the chopping had to be done

but puppy dogs
had to lose their tails

either for their own good
or to make them look good.

It was bad.

It was some brutal adult
reasoning
as if it were a law
that ordained it had to be done.

I had to hold
the squirming frightened puppy dog down

as the hand held cleaver
swooshed through air & bone.

Looking into big brown brimming eyes
that begged for explanation
when I had none.

Both boy & dog
squealing as the thing was done

& hot black tar was daubed
on the bloody wound

that finally found
healing

but forever left my mind
bleeding

an open
bloody

wound.