Blood Sport

Faire Vanity's Conceilts - IV

Blood sport! Blood sport, you say! And shall I then
Make wager on how many dogs shall die
Afore the bear is tethered in his pen
Or in his entrails and his blood doth lie?
Blood sport! The young blood courseth hot; horned beasts
In rut make clashing in their time to win
The bloodline, and the carrion-eaters' feasts
Are made upon the casualties. Shall then
We wager, thou and I, upon which blade
Shall taste first blood, which taste the honeyed cup
Of victory? Upon such risks are fortunes made --
And lost. The hazard of which card comes up,
How falls the die, which doth in skill prevail
In honest contest -- these begin to pale
Before blood sport. The salty taste upon the lip,
The catching of the breath as talons rip
Or bone doth break, or blade thrust warmly home --
These pleasures of the game enhance the play.
So shall we wager, thou and I, and some
Amusing sum or bauble 'fore us lay
As hostage to the fates?