Go Home, You're Drunk | Becca Hawk

$ 7.00

My neighbors are dogs in attics


The 15th street husky never barked about
parties, even when the cops did.
His owners enjoyed their shed-cum-methlab,
McDonalds bags traveling in and out the front door.
I heard him in the mornings, displacing late night visitors —
he woke my house and after the door closed I didn’t mind.

The Martin street chihuahua barked only when
his owners weren’t home and to me. His head peeked
under the blinds and he was ugly but I liked him better than

the golden on the dirt road hill who chased me before
I could run, slobbered my favorite periwinkle skirt
the afternoon he got loose. It all scares me —
my own attic, its window, what
barks when my neighbors look in.