Trailer Park Incident

R. G. Ziemer

Fading daylight

wicks from the sky,

night tar thick and sticky

between trailers where moonlight

ought to be.

A big man walks with a small dog,

footsteps crunching on the gravel road.

Shadows leap from Christmas lights

and something happens down in the dark

some big dog tears from his owner’s leash

or a woman feels a fist

or a man’s betrayed.

Something unexpected

Something brutal and bloody.

Shouts, accusations and curses ring out.

And a lone voice cries

“How could you?”

The dog whimpers

and the man entreats

“How could you do that?”

Panic and rush,

slapping doors

as the neighbors descend from their decks to the road.

Car doors slam, engines roar,

headlight angels fly across the porch screens.

Deep into the night they intone through the darkness,

the pissh of a beer can,

glow of a cigarette,

murmur of voices,

all wondering

How?

How could you?