Neighborhood Dogs

by Lois Ann Ell

She swaggered into the yard, swollen nipples swaying beneath her.
A broken metal chain followed silently behind her, their roles now reversed.
Her muscular brown body moved slowly in the grass.
The ones in the yard, unexpected by her presence, had mixed reactions.
The men tensed, for the breed alone made them bristle.
The baby smiled, for the dog’s panting face looked like a smile. Was it?
The yard dog hesitated, not sure whether to protect or play— and the chain trailed fast toward him.
At first smells, sniffs, slight movements.
These first few seconds
These first few moments
All yard eyes on them
Hot Kapaa sun
Everything, everyone is waiting, watching.
And then her eyes glaze, become cloudy,
Or perhaps very clear
She lunges into his neck
Locks on
As they do
Rips through fur, through flesh, through fear
One man tries to pull them apart
One man picks up the baby
And another reaches for a cement block.