dad is in the garage.
days into spark-light and piles of polyethylene
soon, he says.
as grandaddy laughs,
rattling the icebox for more beer.
dad’s homemade android:
like a doll polished
& grinning, it
dances for us in the kitchen.
the dog barks, chained in the backyard.
do-si-dos for a laugh, catches a glimpse
of the trees beyond the yard,
circuits popping into a limp heap of pieces.
left to mold-over in the garage.
the cats tiptoeing along the edge of fences
across the street.
the dog barking, chained, &
beneath a truck.
dad is in hysterics.
dad is in the garage,
weeks in and his soaked red knuckles.
mom is drinking with grandaddy.
they rattle the icebox.
the dog dances for us in the kitchen,
reboots and sits.
it digs a pit all night and buries three cats there.
it sleeps on the mound.
it never barks.
it waits there in the backyard, still
& staring into the trees.
previously published in Paper Darts Lit. Mag.