Poem appearing in Bards West 2026 An Anthology of Poetry by West Coast Poets Edited by James P. Wagner

 

For the Ones Who Call Her Dog

 

They call her dog,

They say bitch — spit it like it doesn’t mean

mother, protector.

 

They leave her with their fleas, their mess,

their violence, their empty bowls

and still she waits by the door, watches the street,

counts footsteps that don’t belong, teeth bared

growl in the dark.

 

Because she is the one who stays,

even when their hands forget how to be gentle.

She comes back, tail low, hoping this time

touch remembers worth.

 

They say they’ve mapped the gene

that makes dogs gentle,

less wolf, more willing

to lie with man.

 

But they have never seen her

when blood remembers —

never heard her howl split the night

not begging, but warning.

That sound is a promise.

 

And the bite — oh, the bite that only comes

after every chance has been given.

 

So, call her dog, but know,

She is Pomeranian fragile, and Pit Bull, fierce.

 

 

First Published in Bards West Poetry Anthology 2026