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



Damn.