What It’s Like to Kill Dogs

On homecoming, alienation, reentry, and belonging

The wooden sticks jammed through the fluorescent red meat reminded me of the broken figure. Staring at the skewers, I remembered the viscera waterfall where the dark-skinned body in a blue truck had his guts poured out over the driver’s side cushion. The right portion of his skull had been caved in and the air reeked of rotting meat…