MISGUIDED: A SOUTHEASTERN OHIO TRAGEDY

by Renee Williams

 

On October 29th, while on a gravel bike ride in Vinton County, Ohio, three unleashed, uncontained pit bulls attacked Eva Simons, pinned and mauled her. Thankfully, three Good Samaritans happened to drive by and were able to save her life. Eva underwent emergency surgery and the amputation of the left leg above the knee. She has a long road ahead and will require multiple surgeries to reconstruct the remaining leg. —from the Gofundme for Eva Simons

An innocent,
walking down a rural road, alone, away from the other bicyclists, 
wanting to get back to her vehicle to fix a flat, 
when she became quarry to three unchained pit bulls, 
knowing no other way than to attack, 
their so-called area invaded, 
by an unknown person, diminutive, vulnerable.
Barking, growling, snarling, 
incisors like blades,
biting,
tearing, ripping, slicing skin,
feasting on flesh from bone, savoring the salty taste of blood,
chewing, gorging, vivisecting,
mauling, mangling,
destroying, devouring, dismembering, 
eating her alive 
like pack of lions in the veld, gnawing an impala,
for twenty minutes
in a delightful game of mere response, 
base, vile, predatory instincts kicking in, 
untrained,
reacting.
 
The owners,
at a bustling urban hospital, so far from the country lane, 
a newborn child, sick.
Did the dogs offer protection in the depths of the forest, 
or the illusion of power, toughness, 
as we human animals fall prey
to the intoxicating allure 
of controlling what shouldn’t be controlled
like domesticating a lion or tiger, leading it, guiding it, exerting dominance?
Or, perhaps the first dog was taken in, alone, afraid, desperate for care,
mirroring the pitied human discards of Appalachia,
victims of a poor economy, limited employment options, and no place to call home.
It’s said that bad choices make great stories.
But why do you need three pit bulls?
Unwanted dogs multiply like rabbits,
and who has the time to tend to a dog that wasn’t wanted in the first place,
that was dumped in front of the house, 
and the kids wouldn’t stop crying until it was taken in, 
but it has killer instincts, jaws that could snap a bone in a heartbeat,
and work is calling because someone is sick with this damned Covid,
the kids have that new math homework to be done,
and the refrigerator just went on the fritz
for the second time this month?
 
Pit bulls, bred for fighting, vicious, beastly
can be caring, loving pets.
Yet the stereotype is perpetuated,
again, and again…
 
Just another country road,
in another county township,
sycamore leaves falling,
sunlight waning,
gunshots from the sheriff’s pistol. 

Renee Williams is a retired English professor, who has written for Guitar Digest, Alien Buddha Press, and Fevers of the Mind.

THE LAWMAN

by Alejandro Escudé

Caricature of former Arizona Sheriff Joe Arpaio by Lem Luminarias.

Arpaio sees a cage before the soul
of any brown-skinned man—

There is a god in every racist being,
chimeric fool, derogatory chant.

Arpaio sees a cage before the soul
of any brown-skinned man—

The mind molds prisoners, releases them as well,
fright detracts the willing and the fair.

Arpaio sees a cage before the soul
of any brown-skinned man—

The foreigner beneath a tarp of fear hides
from the sheriff hunting desolate lands.

Arpaio sees a cage before the soul
of any brown-skinned man—

More fascist general than lawman, stink
of Southwest sweat, sunglasses large and dim.

Arpaio sees a cage before the soul
of any brown-skinned man—

I spot the van along the American road,
a hot, disgruntled breeze, no court, and dry as death.

Arpaio sees a cage before the soul
of any brown-skinned man—

I speak, when helpless, in swallowed knives.
Nowhere to run from the people’s armored beast.

Arpaio sees a cage before the soul
of any brown-skinned man.


Alejandro Escudé published his first full-length collection of poems My Earthbound Eye in September 2013. He holds a master’s degree in creative writing from UC Davis and teaches high school English. Originally from Argentina, Alejandro lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two children.

DAKOTA CLEARING

by Peleg Held

On February 1st, several water protectors established the "Last Child Camp" in exercise of the 1851 and 1868 Fort Laramie Treaties. In response the Morton County Sheriff, National Guard, and armed mercenaries raided the camp arresting over 70+. —Winona LaDuke Honor the Earth, February 3, 2017

A man in holster and badge parts the fabric
of a Tipi. He is looking but doesn't see
the enemy or the polls as they converge
over his head. Behind him, his people come
as they have always come, with the license
of force and numbers to clear the land.
Warriors wait, laughing, chanting, bound
together by song and the smoke of their fire.
Under the earth, cold iron rings the emptiness
as a black snake dreams of the last child
on the land and how good it will be to be full.


Peleg Held lives in Portland, Maine with his partner and his dog Emitt. There is also the semi-feral cat, Smudge. And a kid or two. pelegheld(at)gmail.com.

WHEN FACEBOOK CRASHES

by Peg Quinn

A number of Los Angeles residents  . . .  actually dialed 911 – the emergency helpline number used in the United States to report crimes, medical emergencies, fires, and the occasional cat-in-tree crisis – after [Facebook] crashed for nearly 30 minutes at 9:30 pm IST Thursday. --Business Standard (India), August 2, 2014

Let's see a line-up
of the users who called 911
or the Sheriff’s Department
when Facebook crashed
for just one hour.

A Sheriff twitting,
This is not a law enforcement problem!

though Facebook lives were ravaged,
swept asunder.
Let each step forward,
explaining to the world
what they had lost.


Peg Quinn, a two-time Pushcart Prize nominee is a mural painter and teaches art at a private elementary school in Santa Barbara, California.