throwing the bone

it was nothing
to throw a dog a bone
into the yard,
still greased from the pan,
warm,
almost clean of meat,
but enough to
send them flying.
all afternoon the dog,
or dogs
would work the bone,
chewing it down
to nearly nothing,
grinding with wild eyes,
sharp teeth.
remembering who they were
not
collared pets,
trained animals,
but still beasts.