Bubbles

small bubbles

Bubbles

Very small, and

Hundreds of them

Like the bubbles

Rising from the

Bottom of

A cheap bottle

Of warm beer

In my father’s fist

Except the water in the sink

Was crystal clear

You’re the “man”

Of the house now

You have to be the man

“This has to be done,” my mother said.

“And I can’t do it.”

Trixie, a small terrier mixed mutt,

Followed me everywhere.

I never had to call her

She was always, always behind me

As I rode my bike

Through creeks,

Trails, streets,

Woods, fields.

That was my life

After school and

Up until dark

Anything was better than

Going home

Trixie loved me, trusted me,

Followed me with no leash

The big German shepherd

Pulled her down the road

His penis was stuck

Deep inside her

They were butt to butt,

Pointed in opposite directions

She was being dragged

Her toenails, claws,

Dug into the asphalt,

Seeking purchase

To stop from being pulled

Backwards

By the German shepherd’s penis

This is how dogs mate,

My father explained.

The male’s penis

Swells up at the end

It won’t come out

For a while

It seemed to tear her open

She was bleeding

I threw a rock at the German shepherd,

Blaming it for hurting

Trixie

He ran faster, but

It didn’t come out

Fill the sink with

Water, she said.

Just hold each one

Under the water

Until it stops moving

Then put them all

In the dumpster

The puppies wriggled

And convulsed

Under the water

Slowly, the bubbles stopped

Only the very tiny

Carbonated water

Beer bubbles

Kept rising; some of them made

Squeaking, bubbling sounds

From inside the garbage bag

I could hear the moist

Wheezes coming from the dumpster

I felt nothing

But regret that

She didn’t just drown me

When I was born

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