the killing

the rabid dog
limped onto the street,
a froth upon his jowls,
sending us
to our porches
while our mothers screamed.
the fathers came out
with their guns.
how armed
the neighborhood was
with rifles
and snub nose 38's,
revolvers
and shotguns.
some were pulled from
waistbands, or holsters,
taking a break
from waxing their long
cars in the sun,
while others
dug into the closet
to spin bullets
into the chambers.
the men seemed anxious
to shoot something,
finally.