Southern ­Hospitality

We children used to laugh at him.
Every time we'd walk by John,
we would push his legs
and watch him swing back and forth
like a pendulum.
And we would laugh.
John knew not to talk back
to his owner.­ Eventually
the odor got so bad
and the rope around his red-striped,
black neck so loose he almost slipped
out of it that we stopped
pushing and laughing because
no one wanted to be whipped
for walking in the house
with his own vomit on himself.