Dog Chases After Neighbors After They Have Left

Disappointment takes three seconds.

The first second is filled with ruptures

from your claws that you never let us clip.

Eyes bulging out. Seizing all over. Scraping

against the worn wooden stairs that prove

wood can turn from dark, buoyant brown

To a crippled grey. And your nose being

assailed with pollen and summer heat

trespasses into your curling fur.

The second second sees you at the bottom

of the stairs, skidding across a pool

of pebbles. Brown, tan, and white molds

of your paws mashed into there, and your

sister’s urine usually seeps through their

cracks on days when it rains. You turn

your head to the side as you gallop,

trying to see past the shredded shrubs,

fallen tree corpses on the other side of the fence.

The third and final second, it hits,

That which you raised your voice at,

Causing quick screams and frantic jogs,

has evaporated along with everything else,

In the dense summer heat. No more

Giant white beast. No more frolicking,

crying light blue dress. No more angry,

alerted, slow yankee. Only more grass,

that you can see, but cannot piss on.

— Alex Hawkins